


All the Riches, Baby

by casanovica



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Rating will go up, Rich Bitch Gerard, oh no they're of two different income classes what wacky high jinks will ensue?, side Petekey, wage slave frank
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casanovica/pseuds/casanovica
Summary: A classic tale of rich boy, poor boy.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 112
Kudos: 140





	1. if i were a rich girl (na na na na na na na na na na na)

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Gwen Stefani and needed an excuse to write Gerard flouncing around in a fur coat.

When Frank Iero was twelve years old, he flunked Algebra. 

“Oh Paco, honey,” his great-aunt Stella flattened his hair, pinched his cheek, and told him, “at least you’ve got big eyes and a bright smile. Marry rich, sweetie. Marry rich.”

Great-Aunt Stella might’ve kicked the bucket a couple of years ago after an unfortunate encounter at a nail salon, but she wasn’t wrong.

*

When Frank Iero was twenty-seven, his application for an apartment was denied.

“What do you mean my application was denied?” Frank screamed into the receiver of his banged-up android. 

He was very confused about the matter.

“Look I’m gonna be honest with you, kid. It was all you. Your roommate has a good rental history, high enough income, no flags on her report.” The rental agent audibly sighed, “You on the other hand, I could forgive some of the red flags and marks on your rental report, but a credit score of 500? My hands are tied. There’s nothing I can do.”

Frank closed his eyes and leaned against the wall nearest him for support, both structural and emotional. “So, you’re saying my credit score isn’t good? It’s 500! That’s like 400 more than a perfect 100. I’d have a 5.0 GPA if this was school. You can get into Harvard with grades like that!”

“That’s not how credit scores work, Mr. Iero.” The voice over the speaker replied.

He let out a sigh of frustration. “I know that. I was just making a- Whatever. You couldn’t let it slide? Just this once? I can make rent, I swear.”

“Unfortunately, it’s just policy. I wish you good luck in your apartment search.”

The line went dead at that. Frank started hitting the wall. Not with his phone, because it was a few bumps in the road away from never turning on again. Not with his head either, for similar reasons. But with his hands, because he was cursed with pathetic tiny hands that could hit the drywall of his current shitty apartment and not damage it. He needed that security deposit back. Or, well, Jamia did.

“Fuck!” He yelled, mostly at himself, but also at the world.

“It’ll be fine, Frank. Don’t worry.” Jamia said, crowding behind him and patting him comfortingly on the shoulder.  _ There, there, little idiot _ , it felt like.

“That was the best lead we had, Jay.” He turned to her to see her smiling at him as one would a cornered animal. 

“We’ll keep looking, something will pop up. If nothing else, we’ll look at some one bedrooms.” She kept stroking his back like a child. It made him feel safe, though, and he was sad, so Frank allowed it, just his once.

“The goal was to find a place where we both actually have our own space. We need room to breathe.” 

“We also need something we can afford, Frank.” Her eyes were filled with sympathy.

_ No, duh.  _ That was why they had three people smushed into a tiny two bedroom apartment in the first place. Kind of. Mostly, it was that Frank crashed on the couch one week and never got around to leaving.

Jamia bit at her lip and looked away inquisitively. “Some apartments these days have really big living rooms. That’s basically a bedroom. Or, or, I saw on House Hunters the other day, breakfast nooks are also really popular! A few partitions and you’ve got your own space.”

Frank looked at her incredulously, cheek smushed against the wall. I don’t want to live in a kitchen nook, Jamia.”

Jamia shrugged. “Better than your car.”

Frank groaned. “We can find something in three weeks, right?”

Jamia drew a few more comforting circles on his back, nodding, but not saying anything. “You better get ready for work.”

Frank hit the wall again in defeat.

*

When Gerard Way was eighteen, his parents bought his way into NYU’s School of Business. They made him smile with his acceptance letter and wear a hat that said NYU Stern on it so that they could take a picture and show it off to their friends at parties and events.

“What a fine boy, you’ve raised.” People would respond, “He’s gonna turn out just like his parents.”

As if that were a compliment.

Gerard didn’t really go to high school. Sure, his parents put down a five figure payment every year for his prep school tuition, but it’s not like he showed up. More often than not, he was skipping class in the photography room and reading comics or drawings. His GPA was barely good enough to graduate and certainly not enough to get him into a good school. But mom and dad wanted him to go to business school, so, there he was.

He lasted a year and half before he dropped out. He hated his classes and his classmates, all cutthroat for success and exhausting to be around. 

When he’d make the drive over from his parents’ mansion on the rare event he went to class, he’d drive really slow by the nearby School of Visual Arts and think about the application packet he never had the guts to send in.

*

When Gerard Way was thirty, he was living his life as a full-time, professional house-son.

He flounced into the breakfast nook, his phone in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other, announcing, “Is brie keto?” 

Mikey paused the frantic tapping of keys of his laptop to run a hand over his face in disappointment. “I don’t know, does it matter?”

Gerard sat on the table in front of Mikey, all five foot nine inches of him, candy apple red hair dangling down his face and grey fur coat hanging off his shoulders. He pushed the laptop out of the way to give him more room to bother his brother. 

“Yes! I woke up this morning with a hankering for some brie and pears, but I’m technically still dieting. So, I need to know whether I can enjoy them or I have to scarf them down in shame in the back kitchen.” 

Mikey attempted to scoot Gerard away so he could resume work, but at some point he gave up and just moved over a chair and went back to typing, ignoring Gerard completely.

“Siri,” Gerard asked, bringing his phone up to his face, “Is brie keto?”

The phone made an excited ping! noise and responded. “Yes, brie cheese is keto-friendly.”

“Oh, that’s such a relief.” Gerard said, already texting Stefan, one of their live in household assistants, to bring over a plate of brie and sliced pears.

“You know, it’s the pears you should be worried about.” Mikey mumbled, just low enough for Gerard not to catch.

“Did you say something?” 

Mikey just kept typing. “Nope.”

Soon, Stefan had brought over Gerard’s afternoon snack on a silver platter, with some sparkling water in crystal glasses for the two brothers. As usual, he came and left without so much as an acknowledgement from the boys.

Gerard picks at the food, slathering a healthy serving of brie on a slice before devouring it. He groaned in satisfaction. Stefan used the imported brie, Gerard’s favorite. He doesn’t wait more than a second before eating another. 

“So, the cats have their grooming in about ten minutes, but that should only take about an hour tops. I’m thinking about after that, making some popcorn and putting on Blade Runner downstairs. You in?”

Of course, when Gerard said this, he meant he’ll be asking the cooks to make a batch of kettle corn and have it delivered to him in their downstairs home theater, complete with recliners and a projector operated by the maids. It had seating for twenty, but it was usually just Gerard watching old horror movies alone.

As for the cats, the three heavily pampered British Shorthairs in his possession, Gerard wouldn’t so much as lift a finger to groom them. A specialist came in every few weeks or so to keep their claws trimmed and fur fluffed. This was an emergency call, though, as Jupiter had jumped off Gerard’s lap that morning and nicked his thigh with her claw, which was unacceptable. So the groomers had to be called in for an emergency clipping.

Still, Mikey had better things to do than follow Gerard around as other people did his errands in his own house. 

While Gerard was the family failure, Mikey was the success story. He didn’t go to business school, but he did learn to code before he could even write his name legibly. Now, he and his other weird computer nerd friends developed apps and sold them for millions of dollars. The Ways were always too happy to show him off.

“Mikey, are you even listening to me?”

He was actually devoting about 5% of his attention to Gerard, just in case something of real importance came out of his mouth, but as usual, nothing did, so he went back to scripting the proposal he meant to get done like a week ago.

“Unfortunately. My attempts to tune you out have failed.”

Gerard narrowed his eyes and put on an exaggeratedly offended look at Mikey, as though Mikey was the one wasting  _ his  _ time.

Mikey gestured pointedly at his laptop, trying to prove that exact point. “I’m busy, Gerard. Why don’t you go out and see a movie in a theater like a normal person? When was the last time you even left the house?”

They both knew that technically, Mikey was Gerard’s only real friend. He was the only person besides their parents and the servants who lived in the Way mansion. Their parents were almost never home and the servants were good people, but they hardly ever acknowledged them aside from asking for fresh towels at the pool.

Gerard shrugged and shoved another cheese covered pear slice into his mouth. “I don’t know. Why would I leave the house when everything I need is right here? There’s people out there, Mikey.” He visibly shivered at the thought.

“Besides,” Mikey asked, “we wouldn’t have time to get ready for the party.”

Gerard groaned and fell back onto the wood table, wrecking the carefully laid out decorations in the process. “I’m not going.” He said defiantly.

“You’re not going?” Mikey questioned incredulously. “It’s mom and dad’s big annual event. I don’t think you really have a choice.”

Every year the Ways had a big party under the guise of fundraising for local charities, but really they just liked to show off their successes and brag for a night. Gerard hated it twofold because: so many people. They filled The Alpine Club ballroom every year and there was never an empty seat. And so much judgement. They all fawned over Mikey, not that Mikey didn’t deserve it, the kid was a genius. But, they’d pass by him sulking at a corner table and tsk and sigh at how sad a sight he was. Poor little rich boy living off his family’s wealth.  _ The looks he would get _ . He hated it.

“Nobody would even notice if I wasn’t there.” He grumbled.

“Everybody would notice and worse, everybody would talk. Just show up for a few hours, scowl at everyone who tries talking to you, eat some keto-friendly hors d'oeuvres or whatever and slip out once mom and dad have made their speech. It won’t kill you, I swear.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re pretty much their star guest.” Gerard waved his arm and put on a bad impression of their father, “Our son Michael just sold an app to Jeff Bezos. Him and old Jeff are practically on a first name basis. isn’t he the greatest? He was on Forbes’s 30 under 30 last year. Oh, yeah, and our other son Gerard, he has no friends, no job, and poor hygiene.”

Mikey rolled his eyes. A buzz sounded and he didn’t end up having time to unpack all that. He got a text from Shaun about tests of their new app crashing and needing to rework some of the code.

“Shit. I need to get to the office. Someone just found a massive bug in the new app. We need to fix it before it before it launches next week.”

Mikey worked quickly, shoving his laptop and charging cable into his backpack in one swift movement. He shrugged on his jacket and patted the pockets to make sure he had all he needed. Evidently, he did not.

“Shit. I left my auction gift at Pete’s place. I was planning on going back there to finish getting ready before the dinner tonight. I’ll never have the time to go back and get it.”

Pete was Mikey’s long-term boyfriend, a soccer player of equal wealth and importance, so their parents weren’t  _ extremely _ unhappy with him.  He also didn’t live too far. 

“I’ll just go and get it from Pete’s.”

It was less of a genuinely kind offer and more of a  _ see, I do leave the house, dickhead _ . But, though Mikey raised his eyebrows in surprise, he certainly didn’t decline. Gerard called it a win

“Okay. I’ll tell Pete to let the security guards know to let you in.” Mikey was halfway out of the door when he called out, “You remember where Pete’s apartment is, right?”

Gerard scoffed, “Of course, I’m not an idiot.”

He slipped the final slice of pear into his mouth and remembered that no, he actually didn’t.

*

Frank walked dogs for a living. Well, Frank  _ sometimes _ walked dogs for a living, when he wasn’t doing one of his three other jobs that helped him narrowly scrape by on his bills.

He liked dogs a lot, so this was one of the jobs he did he actually enjoyed. The company he worked for catered to a very rich clientele, so some of the dogs were as finicky and bratty as their owners, but once they were fed and given a good pet, they usually warmed right up to him. The dogs, that is.

The dog he was currently walking was one of Frank’s favorites. He wasn’t one of his regular walks, he only got him randomly when the owner was unable to walk him, but the dog was always a joy. He was a bulldog, a bit on the older side, but super affectionate and playful. He’d always greet frank like an old friend with a few good licks to the face. Also, his owner always gave him a good tip, which was nice.

Hemingway padded beside him happily as they returned to his owner’s building. He waved at the security guard as he passed by. The stone faced man nodded and buzzed him into the elevator. 

He leaned against the mirrored interior of the elevator as they rode up to the top level. The bulldog panted beside him, satisfied with his afternoon walk. 

“Yeah, bud, it’s been a long day for me, too.”

And it had. He’d had a shift at his first job, where he had to interact with people, which was exhausting. He had a woman who he was fairly sure was actually named Karen yell at him for something that wasn’t even his department. He tried to take a nap during his short lunch, but then he got a call about an apartment showing, which left his stomach crawling with nerves. Then he went on a run with a lab, which would have been fun if he wasn’t so tired. Then, he got called for Hemingway, which was a nice surprise, but he was eager to get home and have a fat nap before doing it all again the next day.

When the elevator binged in arrival, Frank followed the dog out. He didn’t know much about Hemingway’s owner other than he was named Pete and super rich. He lived in one of the fancier condos in a very expensive building, if that’s anything to say. But, he treated his dog well and kept him healthy and didn’t even get mad the one time they accidentally tracked a little water into the building, so he was cool in Frank’s book.

Frank let them into the apartment, and let Hemingway off the leash. The dog eagerly ran over to his water and food bowls to get some munches in.

He took a moment to look around. God, this guy was rich. Marble counter tops, a flat screen TV almost at big as the wall, there was even a  _ chandelier.  _ The whole place screamed, “ask me how much money I have,” which was rich people speak for, “ask me how big my dick is.” It makes him think about his own pathetic apartment. His entire living space was about the size of this guy’s kitchen. The couch alone was probably worth more than all the furniture Frank had. That did not say “ask me how big my dick is” that said “ask me whether I have black mold and asbestos.” Which was why Frank had been involuntarily celibate for the better part of a year.

Still, he couldn’t deny the place was beautiful. He might even dream of living here one day, if he wasn’t such a marxist. It was the dream his parents hoped for him. A life of luxury. Instead, he was walking a dog that probably ate three star dog food dinners, while Frank ordered off the dollar menu.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

“Bye, Hemingway.” He called out to the dog who was too engrossed in his meal to respond.

Frank locked the door behind him and left the key under the left plant pot as usual.

He journeyed over to the elevator, now feeling a little down from that morning’s rejection, and the reminder of it. 

He pressed the down button and waited for the cab, fiddling with the strings on his sweater as he waited. When he heard the doors open, he moved to step in.

Unfortunately, there was also someone stepping out. All Frank saw was a flash of red before he tumbled to the floor.

“Shit, sorry.” He muttered out.

When he came to and his head stopped spinning, he looked up to see a mop of bright red hair, a fur coat that wouldn’t have even been in fashion thirty years ago, and the most delicate features he’d ever seen.  Seriously, Frank knew he brained himself pretty hard, but he was seriously wondering whether the guy standing above him was an angel with an eclectic fashion sense here to tell him he just kicked the bucket.

“Are you okay?” The guy asked, looking at him with all the concern of a kid who knocked over mommy’s good china.

Frank nodded, head starting to pound a bit. “Yeah, I’ll just walk it off. Sorry. I wasn't paying enough attention.”

He shook his head and held his hand out. “No, I was running out of the elevator like a bat out of hell. Don't really know where I'm going.”

Frank took it and muttered out a small, “Thanks.”

Actually up to eye level, he could tell that his initial suspicions were right. The guy was gorgeous. He had striking brows and a soft upturned nose and bright hazel eyes. He had the beginnings of frown lines, which made Frank a little sad. He also had a plush bottom lip that was calling to him. He might have even answered if he hadn’t realized how creepy it was to stare at the angel dude’s face. Blame it on the post-concussion haze, but Frank was pretty sure this guy was his brightly colored dreamboy.

He should have been heading through the closing elevator doors or saying literally anything along the lines of, “Sorry for staring, I’ll let you get back to your life,” but the guy had him a bit speechless. Not to mention, he was staring right back at him, too.

“Sorry, but do you maybe know where I could find Pete Wentz’s apartment?”

Frank was jolted out of his thoughts and reminded that he was awkwardly standing in someone else’s apartment building.

“Oh, yeah.” He answered, actually knowing the response. He pointed behind him. “Third one on the left, two plants next to the door.” 

The guy smiled, talking more from one side of his mouth than the other. “Thanks.” He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear almost shyly. 

Frank’s head swam with thoughts of “pretty man” and the even more primitive “nice ass” as the guy walked away. There was some weird tension inside him, like a rope being pulled too tight, begging him to not let the guy walk away. He had to say something.

“See you around?” He asked into the hallway.

He watched him spin around and respond. “Yeah, definitely,” hazel eyes twinkling.

Frank bit his lip and reattempted entering the elevator, this time successfully. His stomach was tingly and he had to bite his lip to stop from smiling too outrageously.

The guy said he’d see him around. It wasn’t until frank went down the elevator and out the lobby, waved bye to the doorman, and got into his car that he realized how stupid that was. 

*

Frank tossed his duffel bag of work shit on the floor and flopped face first on the couch almost immediately upon entering.

“Frank?” His roommate Tucker called from the kitchen.

Tucker poked his head out to see what was making the dying noise. Realizing it was just Frank grumbling again, he went back to what he was doing.

“I’m making sloppy joes. Do you want one?”

Frank scoffed and flipped over onto his back. “Even if I weren’t vegetarian, I still wouldn’t want one of those. That’s disgusting.”

Tucker just shrugged and went into the fridge. “You want a beer, though?”

“Now that is the question you lead with.” He stumbled over to grab the can being offered to him and eagerly popped it open.

“How was work?” Tucker asked, spooning some vaguely meat-like substance onto hamburger buns. 

Frank made a painful noise in response.

“Oh, it couldn’t have been that bad. Did you have to wrangle a feral raccoon from an equipment trailer today?” Tucker turned to him, taking a sip of his own beer and raising his eyebrows.

Tucker Rule was Frank’s third aparmentmate, along with Jamia, and actual roommate. At around the fourth week that Frank had been couch surfing in their living room, Tucker went out and found them bunk beds and told Frank he might as well move his shit from the living room to his master bedroom and start paying rent. So he did, and that’s the configuration they’d been living in for the past three years. If sometimes Frank and Tucker would wake up cuddled together on Tucker’s larger bed below, who was to say? Tucker was a cool dude.

He also worked at a local music club, so he always had the best stories and the best comp tickets, too.

“Or, did you have to redo a flyer five different times for your boss who said it was “off” only for him to decide that he liked the first draft best all along?” Jamia popped out of her bedroom and into their tiny kitchen to join the conversation.

Jamia was one of the lowest paid marketing associates at the New York music label she worked at, but she still managed to be the breadwinner of the house.

She reached over Frank to grab a finished sloppy joe and eagerly took a bite. “Mmm. Tastes like public school.”

“Yeah, I added hints of e. coli and angry lunch lady for that full nostalgic taste.” Tucker nodded.

Frank shook his head and shimmied past Jamia to get out of the crowded kitchen. “You guys are fucking weird.”

He wandered back over to the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. The speaker, which was playing one of Jamia’s playlist on shuffle, shifted songs from a Misfits classic to Gwen Stefani’s “Rich Girl.”

“Hey, turn that shit off!” Frank yelled.

“Hell no!” He heard in response.

Tucker squeezed himself out of the kitchen and took the seat on the couch next to Frank. “This song fucks. Don’t disrespect Gwen like that.”

Frank put his hands up in defeat, not expecting both of his roommates to be so defensive of a mediocre 2000s pop song.

Jamia took her place at her recliner across from them, beer and plate of extra sloppy joes in hand, singing along to the chorus of the song as it hit.

Tucker put on his best falsetto to join her sing along, encouraging the madness. Jamia made some truly awful dance moves and Frank couldn’t help but laugh. Jamia got up and did a few disco points and cha cha slides totally out of rhythm with the music, but that just made them all the more charming. Tucker quickly stood and joined her, taking her hand and spinning her around as they giggled with joy. As the song ended, Tucker attempted to dip a dizzy Jamia, which almost left her sprawled out on the coffee table. They both cackled brightly. He lived with two of the most embarrassing people in existence, but he loved them so.

Frank gave a round of applause at the impromptu performance. Tucker and Jamia bowed, trying to contain their laughter.

The song changed once more and the two retook their spots. Frank looked at his two favorite people in the world and felt a tug at his heart.

“Tucker, I’m gonna miss you so much, man.” He said earnestly.

“Yeah, who else is gonna dance to Gwen Stefani with me and make me sloppy joes?” Jamia added.

“Guys, it’s not like I’m dying. I’m not even moving that far. And I’ll always be barging in to steal sugar and albums and shit. I’ll never fully leave. But, yeah, I’m really gonna miss you both, too.” Tucker looked a little emotional. They’d been friends for years even before moving in together, but it still felt weird to see him go. They’d folded themselves into each other's lives and even though Tucker was moving up in the world, it would be weird without his constant presence.

“Damn you, Gwen, tapping into my emotions with your catchy beats.” Frank said, pointedly  _ not _ wiping a tear from his eye.

There was a long silence after that as they each mulled over a future without Tucker. A dismal future, indeed. He was moving out to finally move in with his girlfriend, so they were really happy for him. He was the kind of guy that Frank and Jamia would give the world for. Still, with Tucker leaving they wouldn't be able to pay the increasing rent on their current apartment. So, they would all have to find a new place to live. They tried to look at it in a positive light, like a new beginning. It was hard when all Frank could see was his own problems crashing down around him.

“You know, if  _ I _ was a rich girl, I certainly wouldn’t waste my money on dresses and mansions. I think I’d like to travel the world. Visit every country at least once. India one month and Iceland the next. Have a travel blog all the celebrities follow.” Jamia said.

“Na na na na na na?” Tucker asked to the tune of the song, smirking.

“Shut up. What would you do if you were a millionaire?”

“Well, I’d buy Lexi and I a really nice house. Not like a mansion or anything, but a nice house. I’d get us each a Tesla, cause those are cool. And I’d buy my dream drum kit, of course. Maybe even buy a bar or something so I could play it every night and no one could tell me to shut up, cause it’s my bar, you know.” He stared off into the distance, as if imagining it.

“What would you call it?” Jamia asked.

Tucker furrowed his brows, deep in thought for a second. “The Tucker House Rules.”

There was a beat of silence for a moment before they all burst out in laughter.

“That is seriously the worst name I’ve ever heard.” Frank said.

“Oh yeah, Iero? What would you do with the money?”

Frank thought back to the angry lady from earlier that day waving her Amex card and Rolex watch in his face like weapons. He thought of the chandelier and TV in Pete’s apartments. He thought of all the useless shit the people he interacted with on a daily basis wasted their lives on. 

Realistically, Frank would pay off his medical debt. Buy his parents a new house in Atlantic City. He’d maybe go to college, get a degree. Maybe even invest in the stock market if he could manage to figure out how it works. He’d give some away to charity. Spend his cash on bettering the lives of others.

Then, he remembered striking red hair and a crooked smile.

“I think I’d buy a really nice fur coat.”

Jamia and Tucker practically spit out their food in laughter once more, but Frank remained serious.

“I’m serious.” He urged.

“Frank, you absolute maniac.” Tucker chuckled.

“What’s next? A respectable pair of socks?” Jamia mocked.

Frank waved them off. “I tell you my dreams and you mock me? You guys are mean.”

Interrupting the fanfare, Franks phone buzzed in his pocket. He lifted his hips to wiggle it from his jeans. It was a text from his coworker.

“Damn it.” He mumbled.

“What is it?” Jamia asked, nodding to the phone.

Frank reread the text again, groaning internally as he did so.

“One my coworkers from The Alpine Club just texted. Her babysitter canceled and she’s supposed to be working the big event tonight. She’s wondering if I could go in for her.”

Tucker and Jamia stared at him in silence. They wanted to tell him to tell her no, it’s his first night off in a while and he deserves a break. He’d already worked a 10 hour day. But, they know how shitty it would be to be in that situation. And it’s not like he couldn’t use the overtime.

“What are you gonna do?” Tucker asked.

Frank breathed in deeply, leaving the fantasy of wealth they had been playing with behind and mustering up all the strength he would need to get his ass back to work. “I guess I’m working the Ways' stupid party.”


	2. me, i'm a scene, i'm a drama queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ch 2 part 1: gerard makes a scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiii. sorry I dipped from the universe for a little bit I have been mad stressed but I am here to bring u more class warfare romcom content :)

Gerard was really pissed about the champagne. It was oddly fruity. There were notes of apple and peach he could taste which would be fine if it were a sweet wine but this was thousand dollar champagne. And to top it all off it was dry as shit and sucking the life out of his mouth like a sour candy or a Hoover or his parents telling him to get a job.

Well, everything was making Gerard pissed but the champagne was easy to complain about. He just wanted to brood and scoff at all of his parents’ friends in peace with a little mind-numbing juice but the universe couldn’t even give him that.

He was scowling in a shadow by the stage trying to stomach even one glass of the god awful champagne and attempting to go unnoticed. He had arrived fashionably late (i.e. two hours) and still managed to get there with enough time for people to talk to him. He had gelled his fire red hair back and put on his best Paul Smith blue suit, which he hated because it was itchy and too tight at the crotch and clashed with his visual aesthetic, but he was here, which was all that was asked of him.

There were about one hundred people in attendance, all greedy and narcissistic and image conscious and boring as all fuck, judging _Gerard_ for his appearance and general state of existence. Ugh. They all got their personalities from the same twenty pages of Vogue and Forbes and the Wall Street Journal and yet with all their money and influence not a single one of them could hold an engaging conversation or give a compliment that wasn’t dripping in judgement. Also, they were all wearing last seasons’ colors and wearing far too much cologne, which annoyed Gerard greatly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gerard noticed a smirky old woman walking toward him with intent to converse, so he panicked and scurried away.

Mikey couldn’t save him. He was off networking and sneaking secret glances and kisses with Pete. God. They looked like a tv advertisement. With their fancy suits and their symmetrical faces and their success. It would be an ad that their parents would run for their company. Only during pride month, though, so they could get the rainbow revenue and go. Gerard spent that profit on feather boas and custom glass dildos, so, go figure.

Gerard sighed exasperatedly and looked at his Apple Watch. Two more hours of this shit and no new notifications. Could it get any worse?

Evidently so. 

He was contemplating the pros and cons of another trip to the hors d'oeuvre table when he heard a loud screech of feedback ring throughout the Alpine Club ballroom. He looked up. His father was tapping the microphone in the way only a person with an AARP subscription would sound check equipment. It would be the Ways’ big speech. Gerard wondered how quickly he’d fall asleep this year.

“Good evening everyone and thank you for showing up to support local charities this year. There is so much kindness and generosity in this room. Give yourselves a pat on the back for what you’re doing here tonight. Remember that you made a difference in someone’s life tonight. Way Industries is proud to have been part of that.” His mom started. The champagne was a sunk ship, Gerard decided he was going to go back for some mini lamb kabobs after all.

He chomped through a few more snacks while his parents blew smoke up their own asses and managed to ignore their speech entirely. He was considering saying fuck it and going for the petit four cakes when he heard Mikey’s name being uttered by their father.

“Now many of you know of my son, Michael. And if you don’t you should.” His father lets out a fake chuckle, which is reciprocated by the equally fake crowd of people in attendance. “He’s the most promising tech developer of the year, according to Forbes. And we couldn’t be happier to share his accomplishments tonight. He is launching a new application in the coming week, which is sure to be a hit, and has promised ten percent of the first year’s earnings to the Safe Haven Shelter of Newark. Let's give him a hand folks.”

The ballroom was filled with applause for Mikey, who simply smiled modestly and waved, poised and polished as ever. 

“We are so proud of him. We had hoped he would run our company one day, but more than anything it brings us joy to know that he has found success with following his dreams.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. They were lying their asses off like always. _He_ was supposed to run Way Industries one day. It’s why his parents tried to buy him an education. So that he could _not follow his dreams_ and instead fit in the mold of the ideal Way child. For most of Mikey’s life, their parents didn’t give a shit about him. It did make Gerard happy to see the smile on his little brother’s face at the praise, but he knows that Mr. and Mrs. Way wouldn’t bat an eye in his directions if his creations weren’t pulling in seven figures. They’d treat him like they do Gerard.

His dad took his mother’s hand and gave it a kiss. “My family means the world to me. Seeing my wife and I’s little company grow into what it is, seeing my son grow into a man and follow in our footsteps as an innovator. It’s all I could have dreamed of. I only wish for all of you in the room to experience it as well. On behalf of my wife, my son, and all of Way Industries, we thank you for your generosity and can’t wait to share this with you all again next year.”

The crowd drowned them in polite applause. 

_That’s it?_ Gerard stood frozen with his plate of food. They weren’t even going to acknowledge him. Usually he got a line like, “and we’re excited to see the growth of our son Gerard in the coming year,” or some other bullshit, but _no_ , they were going to actively ignore him. Toss him away like a failed experiment. Make him show up to their events but not give anything in return. 

Gerard didn’t know if it was the aggravation, the social anxiety, or rumble in his tummy begging for carbs, but he was not fucking taking it. 

“Did you forget something?” Gerard yelled out, causing his parents’ heads to snap towards him and the applause to die down awkwardly. Aw, shit, he was really gonna have to do this now. “Like, I don’t know? Your other son? I may not be the darling of the tech industry, but last time I checked I was still your kid.” Gerard found himself slowly walking toward the stage, feeling hundreds of eyes on him. “Am I so forgettable? Or I don’t know, what is it this time? My hair is too red? My clothes are too flamboyant? If I sucked Mark Zuckerberg’s cock and got myself on the cover of a magazine, would I be important enough to end up in your speech, then?”

“Gerard!” His mother exclaimed, sweating through her five layers of makeup.

“No, I’d still be living proof of your failures. Well I’m sick of it. I’m sick of all this. And I’m sick of all you.” Gerard turned to the crowd of people silently staring slack-jawed at him. He knew most of them. The billionaires of Alpine were a rather tight knit group. He _hated_ most of them. “Jack! Jack, you and I went to high school together. I cheated off you on every test! And failed every single one of them, too. How did you get into Princeton again? And Sharon! You were the one who told me I had no talent and would never get anywhere in life. Guess what sweetie? You were right! Oh, Marnie! You really are a sweetheart and you were pretty nice to me when I threw up on your cream carpet but those shoes do not go with that dress unfortunately. Do better. And Glenn-”

He was pulled back suddenly by a commanding force. Oh, his father’s hand was grabbing his shoulder. “If you do not shut up and leave right now, I will call security to escort you out.”

He was preparing a witty retort to fire back at him when he spotted Mikey in the crowd. He looked so disappointed. Seeing the shame on his brother’s face hurt more than his father’s tight, bruising grip. It just about took all the fire out of him.

Without Mikey laughing beside him, it wasn’t fun anymore.

“And with that. I take my leave. I wish you all another year of faking happiness.” Gerard raised his glass in toast, then tipped his head back and downed it all in one go. He turned to his father and shoved the flute into his fist. “Your champagne is shit by the way.”

Gerard felt the gazes follow him as he rushed out of the ballroom, head hot and swimming from finally feeling the effects of what he had just done. _Oh fuck, what did he just do?_

He needed a smoke. He felt his heart racing and needed the sweet, sweet kiss of nicotine to calm him the fuck down so he could grapple with the consequences of making a scene at a _charity ball_. He just made a scene at the Way charity ball. They were all in there gossiping about him right then, more than usual, even. He’d probably be the scandalous story that gets brought up at every garden party, every soiree, every fucking baby shower. 

His parents would be livid. They’d probably send him off to Europe or Asia to wait out the drama and think about what he’d done. They’d still let him use their credit card, though, so that would be fine. Mikey would be disappointed but try not to let it show, which would make it even worse.

He could barely concentrate as he shoved the large wooden doors of the club open and felt the chilly night time air greet him as he stepped outside. 

He eagerly stuck a cigarette in his mouth and fumbled with his lighter, hands shaking. He spun the wheel again and again but couldn’t get the flame to catch. His hands were shaking, he was practically hyperventilating, when a hand appeared in front of his face and in it, a flame.

“Need a light?” A voice said. Could've been a god, could've been David fucking Bowie for all he knew, but this person was offering him the world then.

He eagerly held his cigarette in the light and sucked in a lungful of smoke before he turned to meet the eyes of his own personal Prometheus. He found the wide hazel stare of a familiar face, made especially beautiful by the soft glow of the lighter.

“Elevator guy?”

The guy laughed and lit the cigarette in his own hand before replying.

“Well at least I made a lasting impression, huh?” Elevator guy took a long drag of his cigarette, breathed deep, then exhaled it out. The smoke fluttered around him, making him look mysterious and almost otherworldly. As the smoke cleared, a smirk became clearly visible on his face. Gerard could see that his cheeks were beginning to tint pink in the nighttime chill. Against the light of the streetlamps around him, his eyes appeared to glow from within. 

He was tiny and gorgeous. He lit Gerard’s cigarette. Gerard was in love with him. 

“Elevator guy was my father,” Elevator guy said, breaking the wedding planning Gerard had already started in his head, “most people call me Frank.”

“Frank?” Gerard blurted out. Ew. Nevermind. Gerard could never be in love with a Frank.

“Sorry.” Frank put his hands up in defense. “Didn’t really get a choice in that one”

Gerard backtracked and tried to apologize, but was quite unfamiliar with the gesture and was not completely sure how to do it. “Uh, no, I didn’t mean, I acci-, I just.” He took a breath to compose himself. “I’m sorry?”

Frank giggled and if that wasn’t the most adorable noise Gerard had ever heard, he didn’t know what was.

“No worries. I’m not the biggest fan of it either, but it was my dad’s name. Gotta carry on the family legacy, you know?” 

Gerard took a few drags of his cig alongside Frank. He sure fucking did get that. Gerard wondered what family Frank belonged to. He knew most of the people who attended the yearly charity ball, but he didn’t recognize Frank. There was a Frank Ferlito that used to come every year up until a few years ago, when the feds got him on tax evasion and repo-ed his pack of Ferraris, so it probably wasn’t his family. The Dubucs had a cousin named Francis, but Gerard was 99% sure Francis was a middle aged woman with no kids and a farm full of alpacas. 

Oh, well. Gerard never did enjoy thinking too hard. He figured Frank would let him know all about his family and how they made their money. It was how everyone in Alpine introduced themselves. “Hi, I’m so and so, this is how I’m richer and more important than you!”

He figured he already knew who Gerard was, especially after the scandal he’d just caused.

“Yeah. So, I’m guessing you saw the speech.” Gerard asked, trying to get the awkward question out of the way.

Frank shook his head and blew out another bit of smoke. “Speech? No, I just got off-” Frank stopped abruptly before continuing, “of a very important phone call. Didn’t hear anything, sorry.”

“Well consider yourself lucky. It was quite a scene. Very, uh, awkward, for the person giving the speech, that is.” Gerard said, tossing the end of his cigarette into the metal ashtray by the trash cans.

“Sure. Well the speeches at these sort of things are usually boring as shit. Everyone was probably just struck that something actually entertaining happened.” Frank smiled back at him. God, he was far too pretty to be stuck with a name like Frank.

“You might be onto something there.” Gerard smiled back.

Frank shrugged, like he didn’t know how to respond. He took the final drag of his own cigarette then tossed it on the ground, stubbing the butt out under his shoe. Weird. Gerard thought people only did that in movies.

“So, guy who may or may not have given an awkward, incredibly entertaining speech, do you also have a name or do you just go by public embarrassment?”

Gerard laughed. “No, though they’re pretty much one in the same at this point. I’m Gerard.”

Frank had almost no reaction to that, which Gerard also thought was odd. Most people in this circle at least knew of him. He hardly ever gave his last name, most people could tell who Gerard was by the red of his hair. It was a bright beacon of “look, it’s the failure Way son!” But Frank didn’t bat an eye. Maybe he wasn’t even from around here.

“That’s a solid name, but it’s no Frank.”

A breeze passed by and Frank shivered in his light jean jacket. It was light washed and covered in pins and patches. It looked right out of a Bruce Springsteen video. It must have been an antique or sold by a collector. It was vintage so it must have been expensive. Still, it was probably a little too thin for the Jersey autumn.

“Were you gonna go back in?” Gerard asked.

Frank shook his head. “Nah, I think I’ll probably head home.”

Gerard’s stomach fell a little bit. He didn’t want Frank to go. Frank was pretty and biting his lip like a girl in a teen romance movie. He was pretty and sweet, even if his name was Frank. 

“Well, I was gonna head out, too. And if you didn’t have any plans, I was going to take a drive, if you wanted to, well, come along.”

Gerard was absolutely certain he sounded like a serial killer, then. Who asks someone they just fucking met if they wanted to take a drive? Frank’s not an idiot. Frank doesn’t want to end up on the nightly news. Gerard might as well have asked if he liked running for his life in dark forests. Fuck, he’d officially fucked up twice in only 30 minutes.

“I mean if you wanted me to come, I’d be down.” When Gerard looked back up a red blush had spread from Frank’s nose to the tips of his ears. He was toeing some grass around with his toe like he might turn even redder if he looked up at Gerard then.

Well, maybe Frank was attracted to murderers. Something to keep in mind.

“Let me just go get my coat.” Gerard said. 

Frank nodded sheepishly. “I’ll just wait out here.”

Gerard walked back into the country club and tried to pull himself together. Mikey was right. He was a hermit with no friends and an underwhelming jawline. He didn’t even remember the last time he flirted with a boy, much less a cute boy. He was in way over his head. Maybe he _would_ have to kill Frank. Maybe Frank wanted to kill him. Oh shit, maybe _Gerard_ was going to end up running for his life in a dark forest. Frank’s style was homeless-chic so it did check out. 

No, Gerard calmed himself. He was just trying to talk himself out of it. Even if Frank was just coming along because he felt sorry for him, they could at least try and have a good time.

He slammed the number down at the coat check desk. “My coat.”

The worker just nodded and went into the closet to get it for him. 

“Be careful with it, it’s fur!” He called out.

Gerard’s mind swam with insecurities. At least he was on keto. He lost a whole two pounds this week. He was actually over by three pounds the morning before but it was probably because he hadn’t peed yet so he didn’t worry about it. Frank looked so skinny. He was probably on one of those new diets where he drank only carrot juice and ate fingernail clippings. Gerard needed to step up his game.

“Your coat, Mr. Way.”

Ugh, Mr. Way sounded like his father. “Thanks.” He said automatically and rushed out to see if Frank had already ditched him.

When he opened the doors of the club once more, he found Frank leaning against a pillar, shivering. He looked so small against the giant stone building of the Alpine Club. He was staring off into the distance, as if he were asking the stars for answers. Answers for what, Gerard didn’t know. Gerard never had the answers and he usually didn’t have the questions either.

Gerard figured he’d try something bold. He crowded up behind Frank and slipped his fur coat around Frank’s narrow shoulders. 

Frank jumped like he’d been shocked. He popped up a few feet in the air, like the cats do sometimes when they’re surprised. It was cute.

“Oops.”

Frank turned, saw Gerard’s face and relaxed. He looked down at what Gerard was doing and blushed a little more. 

“You looked cold.”

Frank took hold of the fur coat and tugged it around him until he was wearing it like a shawl. Really, he was being swallowed by it. The coat was wearing him. But Gerard wasn’t surprised. It was a strong coat, a bold choice. Few people were able to wear it, Gerard included. You couldn’t show fear around the coat, it could smell it. Gerard hadn’t been intimidated by it for years, it was like a second skin to him. Frank just needed to get used to it, take it out for drinks and maybe get some dinner. He’d own it in no time.

It had always been a dream of Gerard’s to give a cute boy his coat, ever since he saw it in all the John Hughes movies. Frank turned around and slipped his arms through the sleeves. He turned around to show Gerard and gave a boyish smile. Gerard didn’t expect the moment he’d dreamed of to be like this when he finally got to do it, but this was somehow better.

His fingertips barely poked out of the sleeves and the length went almost down his thighs. Gerard though he looked perfect in it.

“Fits like a glove.” Frank said, twirling around in it. 

“Sure does.” Gerard nodded, completely endeared. “My car’s over here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was getting too long, so I split it up into two, but the next part is mostly written and just needs some touch ups and editing so that should be out within the week.


	3. sat by the river and it made me complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2 pt 2 gerard murders frank in the woods (aka the frerard date)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is sponsored by 7-11 pls give me free slurpees in exchange for your feature in this fic thank

Frank was a little nervous as they walked through the parking lot together. When he imagined scenarios of asking out the hot redhead in his post-concussion haze, he was imagining a nice dinner and a movie, not a drive to the middle of nowhere after pulling a very exhausting double shift. Where were they even going? Was he really expecting a _drive_? Frank was totally about to be murdered. That was fine, he figured, because at least he wouldn’t have to deal with his mountaining debt anymore. 

He became increasingly more nervous as they passed row upon row of Beamers, Lambos, even a Rolls Royce. If Gerard came to the Alpine Club, he was probably fucking loaded. Frank had taken the bus to work because the club wouldn’t let him park his ‘98 Corolla with its duct taped bumper in the parking lot. It would “ruin the aesthetic,” they said. They did give him a bus pass for his troubles, so he was kind of over it.

Eventually, they found themselves in front of a modest black Lexus. So, Frank didn’t feel too weird about getting in it. If it was like a Maserati or something, Frank would’ve felt like he had to ride in the trunk or he’d get poverty all over the leather seats. But, this was fine. This he could do.

“Yeah, I know, nothing special,” Gerard remarked, as if reading Frank's thoughts, “but, if we’re being honest I had planned on getting drunk enough to end up puking in the backseat, so.”

Frank always aimed his puke out the window because he definitely couldn’t afford to get his car reupholstered. Though, if he’s being honest, puke might even make his car smell better than it does.

Frank just nodded in what he hoped Gerard would think was agreement. 

When he entered the car, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his prom night. Him and a bunch of his friends pooled their money and rented a limo. It was dark and had this weird smell, eau de new car, or something like that. Gerard’s car smelled a little less like air freshener and more like an actual new car. 

He rubbed his hands together in cold and Gerard flipped on the seat heaters. Frank’s butt suddenly got warmer and his eyes popped open in surprise.

Gerard laughed at his reaction, smiling and tucking a lock of red hair behind his ear. “You can turn it off if you want, I just figured.”

“No, no. It’s nice now that I think of it, actually. Thanks.” 

Gerard started the engine and the radio switched on immediately, blasting a Blur song Frank hadn’t heard in years. Gerard scrambled to turn the volume down. 

“Sorry, I have a weird music taste.”

“No, Blur is cool. I mainly listen to punk, but I could get down to this.”

Gerard pulled his phone out and started flicking through his playlists. “Oh, yeah, like what? I might know some.”

Frank had to think for a second, attempting to distill his music taste into a simple, socially acceptable list. “Uh, I like the classics like Misfits, Bouncing Souls and stuff, but lately I’ve been listening to a lot of Against Me and The Rodneys.” Those were normal bands people listened to, right?

Gerard seemed to think so, as he bounced a little in his seat. “You like the Rodneys? Have you heard their new album?”

“I thought it wasn’t out until next month?” Frank put on a puzzled expression. He knew it wasn’t out until next month actually, he had made a note on his calendar to illegally download it as soon as it was up.

Gerard simply smirked, tapping on his phone until the all too familiar guitars started blaring through the speakers. “Well when you know the guitarist, you get access to it early.”

A wide smile spread across Frank’s space. He was like, a little in love with the guitarist. “Holy shit, you know him? Is he as cool as he seems on TV?”

Gerard scoffed and began pulling out of the parking lot. “No, he’s such a loser. But that’s okay, because I am, too. We used to play D&D together. He’s a fun guy.”

This guy was gorgeous, liked good music, _and_ a bit of a nerd. If he wasn't such a living, breathing, beacon of wealth hoarding, he would probably be pictured in the dictionary under "Frank's Exact Type."

“I don’t know any other way to say this, but you are now the coolest guy I’ve ever met.”

Then it was Gerard’s turn to blush. He got compliments often, it was something he was used to. It was usually about his bone structure or material possessions, both of which he could admit were really nice and deserved compliments. Frank complimented his taste and personality, which threw him for a loop. He tried to make it look like he was just focused on the road, but he knew that if he looked at Frank then, he’d be overcome by the urge to kiss him silly for that.

It took a few minutes of driving, Frank bouncing his leg up and down to the rhythm of the song and Gerard softly humming the lyrics, before Frank brought up the obvious.

“So, uh, where exactly are we going?”

Alpine was filled with mansions. It was already pretty far out from the city, but after driving a few minutes, they were on some smaller road off the Palisades Interstate Parkway, surrounded by trees.

“Well, nowhere in particular. I usually drive around here when I need to clear my head. The trees are really relaxing, especially at night.” Gerard answered honestly.

Frank looked around and considered it. It _was_ really pretty out there. Usually when Frank took a backroad, he was busy hoping that his car wouldn’t die in the middle of nowhere. But, especially since it was fall and the leaves were changing and covering the grass in orange and yellow, it was more beautiful than Frank had paid attention to.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” He agreed softly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you or anything. I just need to calm down a little bit from the party." Gerard took his eyes from the road for a second to lend Frank a calming glance.

“Well, if it helps, I’m not planning on killing you either.” They exchanged a playful laugh before settling back into silence.

Frank tugged the fur coat closer around his body. It was warm and heavy like a good hug. He burrowed himself in it. It smelled like Gerard, which smelled like expensive cologne and sweat, oddly enough. He liked the way he felt in it. He wrote it off as being comfy and insulating, but it also reminded him of when he secretly used to steal his exes' big sweaters. And mostly, it kept the logo of his Alpine Club uniform shirt out of view. It wasn't that he wanted Gerard to think he was rich, he'd just prefer if Gerard didn't know that he was dirt poor. He didn't exactly want him to know that he was the help at the club he was a member of and probably poured the champagne that Gerard drank that night.

Frank knew he was lying to Gerard, even if it was just indirectly. He was sitting in a Lexus with heated seats in a fur coat that he could probably pay college tuition with and was casually not mentioning that he had expected to be sitting on the hard plastic seats of public transportation hoping that no one had peed in there that day.

He wasn't ashamed of being broke or anything. Far from it, really. He wore his two digit bank account balance like a badge of honor. It wasn't necessarily that he thought he was better than rich people, but to be honest he kind of did. He took a Sociology course during his good old college try and befriended a few anarchists and hacktivists that shared their weed with him and talked at length about the evils of capitalism. 

He had taken up a "fuck the rich" attitude after that, but after looking over at the guy in the driver's seat he was starting to see the phrase in a bit of a different light. 

And, Frank supposed, to fuck this _particular_ rich, he'd be better off not letting him in on the secret that he'd showered with hand soap that morning because he couldn't afford more body wash until his next paycheck.

They drove in silence for about an hour, with someone occasionally chiming in about the song that was playing or a quip about the party they’d just come from. Gerard was definitely feeling more relaxed now that he was miles and hours from his dramatic scene and Frank was starting to feel more comfortable sitting in a rich man’s car. 

Eventually, they turned back onto the Palisades Interstate Parkway that led back to Alpine. 

Frank was less of a fan of that. His expectations were murder or sex in the backseat of a Lexus and even though a drive through the woods was exactly what he was promised, it wasn’t what he wanted. It felt flat, like there should be something more.

So, Frank decided that he’d take his turn being bold as well.

He shoved himself forward in his seat and pointed in front of Gerard, completely blocking his line of sight.

“Ooooh, ooh, turn right here. I have an idea.” Gerard was lucky that there was no car behind them and that he had reflexes like a cat because jerking the wheel that hard could’ve been a disaster.

Frank continued giving Gerard directions. Gerard’s brows were furrowed in a very concerned expression, but he followed nonetheless. Frank looked so excited as he shouted out turns and street names Gerard didn’t know. This wasn't the Jersey he knew and understood. What even were the zoning laws in this place? There were no little boutiques or french cafes on every corner. The street lights in this area flickered. A trash can was toppled over. Surely, the HOA would have something to say about that. What if Frank was kidnapping him? Oh god, he was going to get jumped and wake up without a liver, wasn't he? 

“I have no idea where we are right now.” Gerard said.

“Shh, we’re almost there.” Frank insisted, looking for their destination. “Left! Here!”

Gerard quickly turned the wheel to the left, hearing a horn blaring behind him. He looked around to see where exactly he was at. 

The building had an almost imaginary quality to it. It looked like a place he had only seen up close in movies. He’s passed these things a few times, but never had been up close to one. It was a thing of myth for Gerard. Still, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there.

“Why are we in a 7-Eleven parking lot?”

Frank was already popping the lock on his passenger door to get out. “Uh, cause we’re going on a 7-Eleven run, duh.” 

Frank shut the door and saw Gerard’s fearful expression through the passenger window. “What?”

Gerard hadn’t moved, he was still gripping the steering wheel tight and staring forward. “I’ve never been in a 7-Eleven.” 

“What?” Frank asked, louder this time, incredulous. Who hadn’t gotten the munchies in the middle of the night and walked over to their local 7-Eleven for some Doritos and a two liter of Mountain Dew? That’s practically a right of passage as an adult. He went over to Gerard’s side and knocked on the door. “Come on, I want a slurpee.”

Gerard rolled down the window and looked at Frank with judgement. “This is a Lexus.” 

“And I’m a Scorpio, what’s your point?”

Gerard rolled his eyes, but reluctantly got out of the car. “Fine, but if it gets stolen it’s your fault.”

Frank giggled a little at Gerard’s behavior. It was a gas station in upper Jersey, the worst that would happen is they’d key his car a little. _Maybe._ Where did Gerard think they were, Camden?

Frank walked in the glass doors with ease, as if he’d done it a million times before. 

Gerard walked in as if he were entering an alien planet. He had all the grace and confusion of Dorothy Gale. They weren’t in Alpine anymore.

“Grab a few snacks, I’ve got a plan.” Frank said, already finding his way over to the nacho prep station.

Gerard wandered the aisles in a daze. Already, the whole thing felt like a hallucination. It was like that one time he tried mushrooms on a field trip with the art kids. He thought he was in a field at first, but then he thought he was in a French mansion, but then the walls were melting and he was so confused. They found him cowering in the corner of a museum thinking that the scary people from the Picasso paintings were coming to get him. It took two bottles of water, a long talk, and a nap to get him to come down from that experience.

So, like that, but with bags of chips and overly bright fluorescent lighting and a young cashier glaring angrily at him from across the store. He was wearing a five thousand dollar suit late at night in a dingy gas station, so she had a point. He hurried to the trail mix section since that was at least familiar.

Gerard walked up and down the three aisles a few times before he realized he hadn’t actually felt time pass. Had he been in there ten minutes? An hour? He didn’t know, but the Slim Jims were on sale for 3 for $5. He got a sugar free Red Bull from the fridge and a six pack of Oreos, feeling the need to at least have something in his hands to carry around so he didn’t look too out of place.

Frank came up to him carrying a bag of chips, a donut, two large multicolored slush drinks and a tray of nachos. A cheese-covered chip was already hanging from his mouth. 

He unsuredly looked at the two odd, mismatched items Gerard was carrying. “That’s all you’re gonna get?”

Gerard stared at him blankly, unable to defend his choices. “I’m on keto.”

Frank let out a wild laugh and finished chewing the nacho chip in his mouth. “Sure, let’s go checkout.”

Gerard followed him like a frightened child over to the hot food case the cashier was standing behind. 

“Hey!” Frank called out at her. “Can I please get two of these jalapeño cream cheese things?”

She didn’t speak or even confirm in any substantial way, just have a slight head nod and scooped the two little taquito flutes into a bag.

“One’s for you.” Gerard turned to see Frank looking up at him. “They are so good, you need to try one.”

Frank began negotiating all his items onto the counter for the cashier to scan. For some reason, this snapped Gerard out of his stupor and he walked to take his place in front of the register.

“I’ll pay for everything.” He said, putting his two, sad purchases on the counter as well. Frank began to protest, but Gerard cut him off before he could get a sentence out. “No, it’s my treat. I’m the one who lured you into a drive out into the woods. It’s the least I could do. When I drag you to a gas station in the middle of the night, then you can pay.”

Frank opened his mouth to argue, but he really wasn’t in the position to turn down some free food.

“$20.57 is your total.” She said to them in a monotone.

He doesn’t know what total he expected for all that food, but it wasn’t that. Gerard rifled for a bill in his wallet but found he had none. Actually, all he had brought was a credit card, his Centurion card to be exact. The Ways had people they paid to go and fill up their cars’ tanks, so Gerard wasn’t familiar with gas stations or gas station etiquette. But he was still fairly confident that pulling out your AmEx Black Card to pay for $20 in snacks was a weird thing to do. It was all he had, though, so what’s done was done.

He sighed and handed her the heavy black metal card.

She looked unimpressed as ever.

“Is this going to be debit or credit?” She asked, looking Gerard directly in the eyes.

Gerard struggled to think of a situation where he was more intimidated by a person. Probably when his father brought a Kennedy cousin over for dinner once. Kennedy at least had a last name to vouch for him, this cashier had a dirty 7-Eleven polo and stared into his eyes unwavering.

“Credit.” He squeaked out.

For all the trouble, he hoped to at least have impressed Frank with his notoriously exclusive form of payment, but Frank was too busy making work of his nachos to care. It was eerily quiet as she bagged up the groceries, only the sounds of the plastic bag rustling and Frank crunching on corn chips piercing the air.

Gerard felt awkward and out of his element and wanted nothing more than to leave the gas station right then and there, even if by mythological force. A magic sinkhole, alien invasion, literally anything.

“Receipt?” The lady asked, pushing the plastic bags toward them.

Gerard shook his head, almost violently, grabbed the bags and ran to the exit.

“Hey, wait up.” Frank shouted, grabbing the slurpees and nachos to follow him.

When Frank got to Gerard, he found him by the entrance fiddling with the plastic bags. He ignored Gerard’s anxious state and spoke to him.

“So,” Frank began, “I have another idea. Well, idea part two. If you’re up for it, that is. And I think this one you’ll actually enjoy.”

Gerard had already made it this far and Frank was smiling up at him with hope twinkling in his eyes, so Gerard found himself agreeing, hoping it didn't involve sketchy convenience stores.

“Cool. So, a few blocks that way.” Frank pointed in the direction away from the gas station with his nacho chip. “Is this little park I like to go to with a great view of the GWB. What do you say we have ourselves a midnight picnic?”

Frank was shy in his anticipation. He had one side of his pink tinted lips raised in a sweet smile. It was like he still didn’t have expectations, even after he popped Gerard’s 7-Eleven cherry, even after he took an hour long drive into the unknown with Gerard minutes after meeting him. It was open and vulnerable and honest. Gerard found himself admiring that deeply. He couldn’t say no and for Frank, he honestly found himself wanting to go.

They walked to the park in the autumn chill, wind ruffling their hair and elbows bumping into each other every few minutes. Frank’s hands felt like ice blocks with the slurpees in his hands and cold air around them. He found himself wishing he had Gerard’s hands around them to warm them up. Gerard found his own hands itching for the same reason. They held back.

Not long after, they found themselves at a small park with wooden tables and rocks guarding the Hudson River shore. From across the way, New York shined bright against the nighttime sky, reflected in the water below. Gerard was sure he’d driven by this park hundreds of times, but never thought to stop. That was a shame, because it sure was beautiful.

As Gerard stared at the picturesque scene, Frank set up camp at one of the picnic tables. He sipped eagerly at the slush in front of himself and placed the other in front of Gerard. He stuffed his cold hands in the pockets of Gerard’s fur coat, making him look even tinier than he already did in the furry monstrosity.

Gerard placed the bags of snacks in front of them, sitting beside Frank. If he sat a little too close to him, it was just to keep warm, obviously.

“I think you should try the taquito with the slurpee first.”

Frank pushed the bag and the drink toward him with a shy smile. Gerard wasn’t interested in an ice cold beverage or the indigestion that a gas station taquito would give him later. He was sure that both were equally disgusting, that’s why they were served at gas stations and not Michelin rated restaurants. They weren’t adventurous foods, more like reckless. He looked down at he food and up into Frank’s eyes and thought, fuck it. Be reckless, get the guy.

Gerard tentatively reached out for the taquito. Frank’s eyes were trailed on him, waiting for his reaction. The first tiny bite he took wasn’t too bad, so he chanced a larger one, which was absolutely horrid. He sputtered, trying not to completely eject it over the table or Frank.

Frank found it amusing. He started laughing. It was a big laugh, one that had him leaning back in his chair. 

“I’m glad that you find my discomfort entertaining.” Gerard choked out. “Whatever you fed me was genuinely gag worthy.”

Frank held his stomach like it was aching from all the joy he was getting Gerard’s pain.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That shit’s delicious.” He snatched it away from Gerard and devoured his leftovers.

Gerard needed something to cleanse his palette. He took a chance on the icy drink in front of him and grimaced at the sweet taste. He could taste the corn syrup and artificial flavoring. But he kind of liked it, in the same way he liked skittles and candy apples. It was saccharine and almost nostalgic. He found himself wanting more. The sugar buzzed in his head. He could feel all of his senses turning on all at once. It was like he was a little kid again.

“Forgotten your speech yet?” Frank asked, dipping the last of Gerard’s taquito in nacho cheese.

He had, he realized. Between the drive and the gas station and the nasty food and Frank’s eyes, the scene he had caused earlier had left his mind completely. It felt like lifetimes ago.

“I never said it was my speech.”

Frank just shrugged. “With the way you were acting, it couldn’t have been anyone else." He joined Gerard in slurping his drink. “I’ve been there. Doing a major fuck up and panicking, needing to get away, get your mind off it.”

Gerard nodded. The moment he had looked at Mikey, he felt his fight or flight response go off. As per usual for him, it was pretty much just a flight response. He needed to leave, get far away and never return. He didn’t want to be reminded that he was such a failure and an embarrassment to everyone he knew. He ran away. Frank was there to catch him, luckily. Frank never looked at him like the people at the party did, not once, not even now that he was admitting that he knew it was who Gerard made a scene in front of the pompous crowd of their peers. He didn’t look at him with disgust or pity, but empathy. Gerard wanted to cry. Gerard wanted to kiss face and beg him to stay with him forever.

“It was a disaster. I made a fool of myself in front of everyone, in front of my family.” He sipped more of the slurpee, finding it oddly comforting now.

Frank shrugged once again. “I was a dumb kid and an idiot teenager. Even worse, I went to Catholic school, so every time a nun would call me out, I would freak out. I let it get to me. I used to wish I was a ghost so I wouldn't have to deal with it.” Frank looked out to the water, like he could imagine himself back there, crying in the boys' bathroom. “I used to give up a lot cause of that. I still do, I guess. Either way, it would have been really cool to have someone there to get me out of my head a little.”

The sincerity of his words caught Gerard in his chest. The guy had seen him twice, once where he knocked him onto the floor and the other where he was shaking too hard to light his damn cigarette and instead of judging him, writing him off as a nut case, he helped him selflessly. How did he manage to keep such a light inside of him without the coldness of the Alpine elite snuffing it out?

“I appreciate that, you getting me out of my head. I-” he paused, wondering if he really wanted to lay himself out, but there was Frank, with his heart out on his sleeve, waiting for his words, “If I’m being honest, I was probably going to drink until I couldn’t remember what I did, drink until I forgot my own name. I’d end up dizzy, sick, and crying in my bed alone, thinking about how much I disappointed everyone, wondering why I couldn’t be better.”

Gerard fiddled with his fingers, looking down and away. He didn’t tell this kind of stuff to people ever and he was afraid of how it would go over.

“You don’t need to be anything you aren't, not for them.” Frank said sternly. He hated that Gerard felt that way. The people at the Alpine Club treated him like he was sub-human because he was just a worker there. They had a way of looking at people that pierced the skin, it made him feel like he really was nothing. Gerard was beautiful and kind, he didn’t deserve their treatment. “Don’t let anyone else have your pain. They’re not worth it. You’re worth more.”

Gerard was sure his eyes were shining as he looked at Frank. He stared deeply at him, contemplating if he was real or if Gerard had made him up.

“Thanks.” Gerard said, for lack of any complex words to respond.

Frank rifled through the bag for the donut, not looking Gerard in the eye. “Don’t mention it.” 

He handed Gerard his Oreos and they ate their foods in peace, listening to the waves crash against the rocks and the city bustle in the background. It felt oddly calm, the air between them indescribably different. They were comfortable around each other already, like they could really breathe. It was nice, the way they could just sit in each other’s company. 

“I like coming here at night to listen to the water and the cars pass by. I get a lot of thinking done. Sometimes in the summer I even bring my guitar and play for the parkgoers. It’s kind of like my happy place.” Frank admitted.

And it was, this park was where he had celebrated a few birthdays. Where he came to cry when he found out his parents were getting divorced. He even slept on a bench there once after he got evicted from his apartment but before he moved in with Tucker and Jamia. The interstate park was always good to him, took care of him. Now, he was sharing that with Gerard.

The happiest place Gerard could think of was the oak tree he and Mikey made a makeshift treehouse in when they were kids. Their dad tore it down because it looked tacky next to their stone mansion and their tennis court and gardens. Their father had a playroom made for them with trampoline floors and foam mats and happy, playing children on the wallpaper. It wasn’t the same, it was manufactured and sterile. Every time Gerard found something he enjoyed, his parents found a reason to disapprove of it, to replace it with something they deemed appropriate for a Way child.

“I don’t know if I have a happy place.” He responded. “Every place I ever really enjoyed was taken from me, in one way or another. Or wasn’t even real to begin with.”

“Well, hopefully I haven’t ruined this place yet.” Frank turned from the skyline to look at Gerard’s face, just inches from his. “Maybe this could be your happy place, too.”

Gerard wanted to tell him he couldn’t ruin anything. That just by being there with Gerard and talking to him and letting himself go on this little adventure with him, he was making things better. That if he hadn’t shown up at the moment he did, hadn’t lit Gerard’s cigarette and talked to him like a normal person, not talked down to him like the failure he was, Gerard would've had a breakdown in a parking lot. He wanted to tell Frank this, but couldn’t find the words.

Instead, he stopped looking for them. He looked down at Frank’s lips instead. They were full, but chapped and cracked. He would bite them sometimes and never bothered to use balm, not bothering with luxuries like that. Kisses were quick things to exchange, now meant to be impressive. Frank found himself wishing he looked a bit more kissable then. His bottom lip had an edge of moisture and red tint from the slurpee. It quivered in the moonlight, like it was waiting or searching for something to meet it. Gerard glanced up to see Frank had his eyes set on Gerard's lips as well.

They met each others’ eyes and something clicked. Gerard slowly brought his hand up to hold Frank’s jaw and bring it closer and closer to him, until they could feel the edges of the other’s breath against their faces. Gerard caressed Frank’s cheek with his thumb before moving that millimeter more forward to press their lips together.

Frank was soft. Frank was warm. Frank felt like hiding out in a treehouse of his own creation. Frank felt like the flame of the lighter, the nicotine coating his lungs. He felt like the rush of making a big speech he’d been holding back for years. Gerard wanted to explore that, explore him.

Frank tangled his fingers into Gerard’s red hair and pulled him closer, trying to kiss him deeper. The waves lapped in the background, the cars sped past. He could hear the rustle of leaves in the wind around them. He felt at home in this park, bundled in Gerard’s fur coat, his mouth moving slowly against his own.

When they pulled apart, Gerard felt lightheaded. Either from the kiss or from the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure he had taken a breath during that entire thing.

Frank couldn't stop himself from smiling down into his lap, but tried to hold back the explosion of happiness that threatened to overtake his expression. 

“You’re cute when you blush.” Gerard told him and that broke him. His wide smile filled his features, crinkling the skin around his eyes while he tried to hide behind his hands.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Frank said, stretching open his fingers to peek at Gerard through them.

Gerard pulled his hands down and twined them in his. His lips settled against Frank's once more.

They stayed like that for a while, nothing but each other’s lips and hands on their minds. Gerard didn’t want to go back to his empty mansion. Frank didn’t want to go back to his lumpy mattress in his apartment that was falling apart. If they could, they’d choose to live right there, in their secret park, wrapped around each other, where no one could touch them.

But, the night did have to end eventually. 

“Fuck. I have to be up early for work tomorrow.” Frank said into Gerard’s mouth, sighing in frustration.

Gerard licked his lips, tasting Frank on them. He savored in it and sealed it in a memory for when Frank was gone.

“I completely forgot the time. I get it.” Gerard tried not to sound too disappointed.

He didn’t get it, having never worked a real job in his life. But, he’d watched his parents and his friends and his brother ditch him for work, so he understood the feeling. 

Frank played with one of Gerard's hands anxiously before blurting out what he wanted to say. “Look, I don’t know if I’m overstepping, but I’d really like to see you again.” 

Gerard felt a wave of relief rush through him and he squeezed Frank’s palm in return. “God yes, maybe even when I’ve not just made a scene at a charity ball.”

Frank noticed Gerard shivering, his body remembering that it was cold outside without Frank wrapped around it. “Or when it’s not fifty degrees outside.”

"It's a date."

They giggled together for a moment before Frank stood up removed Gerard’s coat and held it out to him. It was a shame, he was starting to really own it. Gerard was on the path to hypothermia, so he accepted it nonetheless. 

“Let’s get back to the car. I’ll drive you home.”

They gathered their things and threw away the trash and made the walk back to Gerard’s car hand in hand. Thankfully, the Lexus was still there in one piece when they got back. Gerard eagerly pulled out of the sketchy lot.

It was a few minutes before Frank realized that he never told Gerard his address. It was another minute before Frank noticed that Gerard knew exactly where he was going. Where they were going was in fact, not Frank’s apartment, but Pete’s. He must have assumed that because he had been hanging around there, he lived there. It made sense, he hadn’t mentioned that he was only there to walk Pete Wentz’s dog. He hadn’t mentioned that he wasn’t rich. The giddiness from earlier started to fade at the realization that Gerard probably only liked him because he thought he was one of them.

And if he chose to correct Gerard, he’d have to admit that. He’d have to send Gerard to the scarier part of Jersey, where it smelled like piss and unemployment. Where the front door light flickered ominously on the rare occasions it actually turned on.

Instead, Frank shut the fuck up and let himself be led to a place he could never dream of living. Let whatever version of Frank this was exist in Gerard's mind for just a little longer.

When Gerard pulled to the front driveway, Frank found himself not wanting to get out. He had grown fond of the heated seats and Gerard’s presence. He’d have to run though, if he wanted to catch the line up bus home, so maybe it was time to shatter his own illusion of who he was and what he deserved.

“Give me your phone.” Gerard told him as they sat waiting in front of the building. At least he looked equally as unhappy about their parting.

Frank reached into his ass pocket and grabbed the poor device he called a cell phone. He ashamedly handed it over to Gerard. 

Gerard looked a little confused at the thing placed into his hand, like he would worried it would randomly catch fire. That was a fair worry. Frank had that thought, too sometimes.

“I’m really clumsy, oops.” He said, hoping he could get away with that excuse for its condition.

Gerard just shook it off and dialed his own number into it, saving his contact information. 

“Will you call me tomorrow after you finish work?” He said, handing Frank’s phone back to him. He was biting his lip. It was absolutely adorable.

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” Frank chanced.

In answer, he leaned forward to place a light kiss on Frank’s lips. As Frank eagerly pushed for more, Gerard pulled back. 

“Uh-uh.” Gerard teased. “You want more, you’ll have to call me tomorrow.”

As if there was a chance Frank wouldn’t spend the entire day in anticipation.

“Second I get a chance.” Frank nodded.

Frank reluctantly got out and stood in front of the tall building of condos, watching Gerard drive away. He felt a little alone out there after everything, but then he remembered Gerard and his lips and how he looked at him with reverence. He looked around. The world changed a little bit, was a tiny bit different post-date with Gerard. Was that a date? He'd said it was a date. He didn't even remember the last time he'd been on a proper date. He felt like a high schooler again, with butterflies in his tummy over a pretty guy who liked him. That filled his motivation meter enough to finally pick up his feet and haul ass to his bus stop.

*

When Frank finally got back to his apartment, he was sure it was already past midnight. He tried to enter as slowly and quietly as possible so as not to wake anyone. He walked into a pitch black living room.

However, that suddenly changed as Jamia flicked on the light, burning Frank’s corneas and revealing herself on her armchair, petting the dog in her lap like a Bond villain.

“And just where have you been, young man?” She said in her best dad voice. “I texted you if you needed a ride back and received no response and that was,” she took a moment to glance at her bare wrist as if it were covered in a watch, “over three hours ago.”

Frank just shrugged and started removing his sweater. “Out.”

“I was worried sick! What if a Karen had gotten to you? For all I knew she was still keeping you there, demanding to speak to a manager.” Jamia looked genuinely concerned and Frank felt a tiny bit bad.

“I had no unfortunate Karen encounters today, luckily.” He moved to lean on the armrest.

“So what happened? They make you stay late to clean?” 

“No. The night crew was going to take care of that. I just went for a little drive and 7-Eleven run. Sorry I stayed out past curfew, _mom_.”

“You went for a drive?” She lifted a single eyebrow up at him, examining him for lies. She found one, apparently, because she gasped and covered her mouth. “You were out with someone! Who was it?”

Frank could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks and knew there was no way out. “I might have gone on an impromptu date with a boy.”

Jamia slammed her hand down on the chair, startling Sweet Pea off her lap. “Boy! Boy! Who was it? Where did you go? I need to know these things.”

Frank knew he sounded like a lovestruck teenager writing in his diary. “His name is Gerard and I met him at the party. We went outside for a smoke at the same time and got to talking and he’s really cute and he asked me to go on a drive with him and he may have given me a concussion getting out of an elevator earlier, but he let me wear his coat and kissed me while we watched the cars on the GWB and, ugh. I really like him, Jay.”

He tried not to let his complete fondness poke through but there was no hiding it. He was smitten as fuck.

“Aw, Frankie kissed a boy. I’m really happy for you. It’s been so long since you’ve been in a relationship, I was starting to think the only man for you was Bernie Sanders.” She gave his leg a friendly shove.

“Yeah, don’t let him know I’m cheating on him, though.” Frank played along.

She dragged her fingers across her lips, metaphorically zipping her mouth shut. Frank felt the lethargy settle into his bones after the long day. Luckily, it was a light day the next day, and then his weekend, so he’d be able to catch up on sleep then. Still, he better get to sleep then, or he’d end up passing out on the couch, so he said goodnight to Jamia and made his way over to his and Tucker’s bedroom. 

Jamia called out to him as he left. “I do hope it works out for you and Gerard. You deserve some good things in your life. And, hey, maybe this is just the beginning! And there’s more good things to follow.”

He was a bit dubious about that. He had pretty much accepted his status as a shit magnet at that point. But, maybe he was allowed to have one good thing? If he had a choice, he’d want Gerard to be the good thing. Gerard filled him with butterflies and hope. He wanted to keep him, to have that at least. If he was going to have to spend the rest of his life fighting for scraps and every ounce of respect he deserved, he should at least get to fall asleep to a sweet voice and wake up next to a pretty face. He wanted Gerard. Gerard wanted him. It should be that simple. It was too much to think of so late and on so little sleep, so Frank nodded and wiped his eyes, which were drooping more and more as the seconds passed. So he tumbled into his room and left his work clothes on the floor for future Frank to deal with, flopping onto his lumpy twin size mattress. 

He touched his fingers to his lips, still feeling Gerard there. The memories of the night led him gently into his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I allowed myself one chapter for cheesy soapy romance. no more romance. only long cons and comic misunderstanding >:)


	4. only boys who save their pennies make my rainy day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3 part 1 - part 2 incoming momentarily

Gerard woke up after his date with Frank much like he did every other morning. He yawned, stretched out on his silk sheets, and pulled off his baby pink “sleeping beauty” branded eye mask. From the sun streaming through the window and the clock opposite his bed, he could tell it was about noon, or to Gerard, time to start the day. 

The sun was particularly bright that morning, giving out its last bit of rays before fall struck and sent Jersey into murky cloudy afternoons. Gerard wasn’t particularly in the mood to have the nature’s interrogation light shined in his face or to get up and greet the day, so he reached over to the nightstand, pulled out a remote and sent the curtains flying shut before laying back onto his down pillow once more. 

He was perfectly content to spend the next hour or so drifting between different states of consciousness, but someone had other plans. 

_Mrrroooow_. The little trill came from a small furry body on the other side of Gerard’s bed. Gerard popped his head up, struggling to see past his massive duvet. It was Mitch prancing toward him, his darling tabby British Shorthair. Gerard fell in love with the breed when visiting a family friend in London a few years back and ended up importing Mitchell and his two siblings from a breeder in Kent. They were very sweet and soft animals, letting Gerard pamper and pet them when he felt like caring for something and remaining distant and aloof when he didn’t.

“Hey Bug.” Gerard whispered, voice still raspy from the morning. 

Mitch butted Gerard’s hand with his head until he began stroking his fur. The cat nuzzled and purred while Gerard giggled at him. 

Mitch was his favorite of the cats and he wasn’t afraid to say it. Cats weren’t people and could only think as hard as needed to get them food, pets, and attention. They didn’t care who was the favorite or where was socially appropriate to lick their own asshole. So, Gerard had no qualms about admitting it. He remembers when Mitch was still a kitten and Gerard would play with him with a feather toy on his bedroom floor while his siblings would watch from their cat trees. They played for hours and loved being around each other all the time. 

They were besties. Gerard wasn’t even mad when Mitch shit on his white leather pants once, he just had them professionally cleaned and made the servants change his litter box every hour. The cats all had custom made leather collars, but Mitch’s had Swarovski crystals embedded as well so everyone else could tell he was a special boy.

Mitch curled his warm body up in the crook of Gerard’s arm, content to snooze the day away alongside his owner. Gerard was drifting back to sleep when his phone buzzed beside him. It was innocent enough and on any other day, Gerard would have just ignored it.

But that was not any other day. The memories of the previous night with his family and his frenemies and his prince charming saving him from their ridicule all rushed back. The drive through the woods, the dingy gas station, their kiss by the river, he remembered it all. Frank said he would call. Oh, god, what if Frank was calling?

Gerard scrambled to find his phone in the mess of pillows, sheets, and cat around him. Mitch seemed mildly perturbed by his flailing and pounced off the bed to go do other cat things.

He opened his phone to check his notifications and found that Frank had not called him. In fact, he had no notifications from Frank at all. He had a few from Instagram, including a few picture tags he planned on actively ignoring, and some of his favorite shops were announcing sales. There was an email from SVA on applications for the following year. He had put himself on the interest list a while ago, but never went further than living vicariously through the students posing for photos in their emails.

He put his phone down and flopped back on the bed. Why hadn’t Frank called? When was he going to? What if he called and wanted to go out and Gerard was still in bed? He’d have to be on high alert just in case. He looked around his extravagant but empty room. What was he going to do until then? He usually had nothing to do all day, but now he had to think about it.

Gerard didn’t like thinking about it. He liked to waste his time wandering the mansion in peace, now he had to accomplish nothing but with anxiety.

_Now what?_ Gerard thought. He sat in his plush robe on his bed and frowned. He could always text Frank, maybe he would even text back. No, that would be desperate and no one wants someone desperate. That’s red flag territory. He might as well slide into Frank’s DMs with a dick pic. 

He dragged his feet over to his sitting nook, next to the bay window overlooking the gardens. He could watch a movie he supposed. 

“Alexa, turn on my TV.” He announced to the little white dot on the fireplace mantle. 

“Turning on your TV.” She replied and his flat screen blinked to life.

Gerard didn’t know what he wanted to watch. He could watch Blade Runner, like he had been planning to with Mikey, but it didn’t feel the same without his little brother there. He was about to click on a new Netflix comedy special, but decided he wasn’t in the right mood for it. He went through the classics on Disney Plus, but nothing was jumping out at him screaming, “watch me!” The series everyone was talking about on Amazon was an option, but he wasn’t ready for the commitment that came with bingeing a series. He got 10 minutes into a romcom he had on his list, but then that reminded him of Frank and the whole point was to _avoid_ thinking about Frank. After an hour of mindless scrolling, he gave up and put on an unboxing Youtube video.

A noise broke his focus. _Miaow_. It was almost a chirp, so it was definitely Jupiter.

He turned to see the silver cat waving her tail at him. 

“C’mon Jup. Up ups.” He patted his lap for the cat to jump on, which she happily did.

Jupiter spread out in his lap, flipping on her back so she could get belly rubs. He pet her fluffy tummy, feeling her purr beneath him.

“What am I gonna do, Jup?” He asked the cat, who only rubbed against him in reply. “Do I text him first? Is that creepy? I mean I almost kidnapped him last night and he seemed fine with that.”

_Mew_. It was not a direct response to him, but a request for more pets. But Gerard knew what her little voice meant. To stay strong and tough it out.

“You’re right, I’m being pathetic. I don’t even know why I’m acting like this.”

Jupiter flipped around again and curled up into a little ball on his lap. Her brother, Lotion made an entrance into the room, then. He pranced from the door to where they were, making little tapping noises with his paws on the marble floor as he bounded over.

“Any advice for papa, Lotion?”

Lotion said nothing, as usual. He did, however, decide it was time for a stretch break. He leaned forward, stretching out his front legs, elongating until he was limber again. In the position, he almost looked as if he were doing a downward dog. 

“Lotion, you genius!” He yelled, praising the cat who was unaware he had done anything out of the ordinary.

It had been months since Gerard last did yoga, but he remembers how good he felt after the class. It was nothing like spin class, which left him sweaty and out of breath. No, he could do yoga. Yoga was in his ability to do. Besides, all the girls in his old yoga class were skinny influencers with thousands of followers on social media. Maybe they were skinny from the yoga, or maybe from the colonoscopy tea they sold, but Gerard was willing to shoot his shot.

He walked into his closet and found his favorite leggings, which he definitely would not admit he got from the women’s section at Lululemon. They had pockets and made him look like he had a butt, so he wasn’t going to pass that up. 

If he was doing yoga, he was going all out. He found his sweat bands and his Hydroflask and of course the limited edition Nikes gifted to him by Serena Williams herself. He didn’t work out often, he had to be ready.

Gerard reached the Way family home gym and figured he would get some stretching in. He wasn’t familiar with stretching, but had a vague idea of what needed to be stretched for these kinds of things. He tried touching his toes, but quickly gave up on that idea. He could feel muscles stretching when he brought his arm across his chest, which had to be a good sign. He even tried a spit but aborted the plan when felt like he was gonna tear all the muscles in his thighs at once. He jumped up and down, shaking it out. He felt limber, like a cat. This was going to be good. 

He lasted 25 minutes through his guided yoga podcast, before he fell on his face and gave up. Oh well, he gave it a good try. 

After, he figured he’d treat himself, and made a post workout smoothie. He sat at the breakfast bar and opened his MacBook. At least he’d managed to waste two hours. 

Sipping the smoothie, he logged onto Facebook. He found the same few people that were always online. One of the people he went to NYU with was promoted to head of marketing at their company. He left a like on that. Another friend of a friend landed their first modeling cover shoot. He left a like on that one as well. The valedictorian of his graduating class was getting engaged. He closed the tab.

He hardly ever posted on Facebook anymore. He didn’t really have any life updates to post. He didn’t have a cool job or hobby or a soulmate to have two point five kids with. He was thirty. Shouldn’t he be doing more?

Thinking of soulmates reminded him of Frank. He checked his phone again. No new messages. That made him sad. He didn’t want to think about being sad.

So, naturally, he decided to buy things.

Retail therapy was real and when someone had the kind of money that the Ways had, it was always there for him. He went onto his favorite luxury bath items site. They sent him a 10% off code, so it was super valid to go on a mini online shopping spree. 

He was five pages into their bath bomb section when his phone buzzed. He was so engrossed in choosing between the tea tree oil and lemongrass with extra fizz and the glittery lavender and honey, that he almost missed it. 

The text was from an unsaved number, but Gerard knew exactly who it was.

_hi_ , the text read, _i know i said id call but tbh i wasnt sure if u’d remember me?_

Gerard had to physically hold himself back from immediately replying. No, he had to be rational, give a normal response, not give away that he’d been waiting by the phone like a weirdo.

_this is frnk btw_ , came a few seconds later.

Then, _*frank sry_.

It gave Gerard a goofy grin while staring at his phone.

_lol i remember you frnk_ he replied.

Frank started typing immediately again, and Gerard watched the three dots in anticipation.

_whew good,_ Frank replied.

_how could i forget you when you dragged me into a gas station at 12am?_

Gerard feared he said the wrong thing when he watched the three typing dots of doom appear then disappear, then appear again as Frank worked out a response.

_sorry abt tht. didnt mean to make u uncomfy or anything_

Shit, shit. Well, he was uncomfy, but he didn’t care because Frank was so excited about it. He got over it and prayed he wouldn’t get botulism. He’d do it again for Frank, though.

_dont worry, i was perfectly comfy when you kissed me by the river ;)_

Gerard felt himself blush as he remembered the kiss. It was probably the best kiss he had ever received in his life. Not that he just went around kissing boys, but still. He hoped Frank remembered it just as fondly.

_thts actually what i wanted to text u abt. so i had a really good time last nite n was hoping we could see each other again?_

Gerard squealed in his kitchen. Now, he needed to write the perfect text, the sinker, the one that would seal the deal. He needed to not sound desperate (he was) or like he’d already fallen in like with this guy he’d known for a few hours (he had) or like he was a total fucking loser with no friends (undisputably lame).

He could write something cute or sweet, but that was a bit much. He could send him a song lyric. They liked similar music, but what if he didn’t recognize it? He could just come clean and ask Frank to marry him? Was that an option?

_same_ , Gerard replied.

_cool,_ Frank sent. _i know i said id call you after work but im gonna have to stay late today :( so idk when ill be able to call_

_you could always just come over,_ he responded, not really thinking about it.

He felt a pit of dread forming in his stomach as the conversation went dead. Well, that was desperate. He fucking blew that one. Now Frank would never message him again.

He locked his phone and put his head in his arms in defeat. It was unexpected when the device lit up with a text notification.

_its a date <3 just text me ur address and ill head over after work _

Gerard jumped out of his chair and threw his fist in the air. Yes! He had a date. 

Oh, god, he had to prepare for a date.

“Stefan!” He called out for the head of house staff. “I need candles! And roses and doves! Actually scrap the doves, but I do need an amuse bouche tray!”

He heard scrambling in the nearby kitchen and a muffled, “Yes, Mister Way,” shouted through the wall.

“I have a date to prepare for.” He whispered to himself.

*

Frank hated his job, but he was good at it. He was good at it because he loved telling people “sorry.” It was a trick he learned back when he waited tables at a 24 hour diner. People really loved hearing the word “sorry,” whether it was for an unavoidable circumstance or something mostly his fault. They really liked it when a service worker apologized to them. So, Frank gave out apologies like candy on Halloween. 

Clogged toilet needed cleaning? Sorry. Towels were a little too scratchy? So sorry. His uniform polo had a stain on the back? His greatest apologies, he’d clean it right away. The word was as familiar to his tongue as his own name. They would accept his graciousness and move on to their next gripe that he would also apologize for. Not once did Frank ever receive a complaint about his conduct and that was because of how often he’d tell these asshole rich people, “sorry.” So many of his coworkers were unwilling to sacrifice their pride for the sake of cooperation, but not Frank. He was almost addicted to it.

But Frank’s favorite thing about giving placated, sterile apologies? As many times as he said it, he never had to mean it even a little bit. Sure, he’d say he was sorry, but he never ever was.

Frank was folding clean Alpine Club branded towels when an older man came up to him. He impatiently stood in front of Frank for a second, waiting to be acknowledged.

“How can I help you, sir?” Frank asked in his fake customer service voice with his fake customer service smile plastered on his face.

“Yes, it’s too hot in there, dreadfully warm. You should fix it.” The man waved his wrinkly hand to the door he had just exited from. Frank was confused.

“The sauna?” Frank questioned.

“Indeed. I feel so lightheaded from the heat. I’ll need to sit down soon or I might just pass out.” 

The old man put a hand to his head as if he were running a fever and not like he had just exited a room intended to coax sweat from the human body through high heat. Frank was honestly curious as to what he has been expecting when he went into the room labeled “sauna.” He suspected that his rich little brain didn’t think that far ahead. He didn’t need to, he could just hire other people to do it for minimum wage and a line on a resume.

“Of course, sir. I’m very sorry to hear about that. I’ll adjust the temperature as soon as possible.” Frank replied, holding his face in the fake grin.

“Good boy. I need my Perrier.” The old man waddled toward the bar, satisfied with Frank’s response.

Ugh. _Good boy_. As if he were a dog. It made Frank want to hurl. He shook his head and went back to folding towels. He sure as shit wasn’t about to make the sauna cold. 

However, the sauna temperature controls were in the machine room. And there were no people in the machine room. Which meant he could avoid interaction for probably a whole five minutes in there. He would technically be fulfilling a customer’s request, so it wasn’t like anyone could complain.

Frank dropped the towels and rushed into the employee section of the club.The machine room was in the bowels of the building which was fine, because as wellness staff, Frank had a key. It was mostly in case he had to perform an emergency shutoff on something, but he never passed up the opportunity to use and abuse his privileges to their fullest extent.

When he got to the room, he realized he didn’t actually know which panel controlled what. Figuring that out seemed like a lot of work, so he pulled out his phone instead. 

Frank scrolled through his notifications. Jamia had sent a novel length text complaining about her boss that he made a mental note to read later. Tucker sent him a funny meme which he replied to immediately. His bank sent him a few low balance notifications that he pointedly ignored. The Rodneys had posted a new photo on Twitter. It was teasing a new single release. Frank saw the title and realized he had already heard it.

He had heard it the night before with Gerard. 

Gerard.

His tummy tumbled at the thought. Frank was once again running on too little sleep from the late night excursion. So much that he almost forgot about Gerard. His hot date. The guy who kidnapped him. The person he shared a kiss with at his favorite freeway park. He had promised to call him. _Shit he had promised to call him._

He quickly pulled up his contact info and started a new message.

What was he gonna write? _Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Cause you landed on me and gave me a minor concussion and tbh my vision is still a little wobbly_? He knew he should probably cover his pining up with humor or he’d seem like a creep. Was he a creep? Oh, but Gerard looked so pretty with his bright hair and fluffy coat and obliviousness in his eyes. No, Frank needed to focus. He needed the perfect pickup line.

_hi._ Yeah, that should do it. Frank freaked out a bit when Gerard didn’t immediately respond. Then he told himself to calm down. It wasn’t as if Gerard was waiting anxiously by the phone for his call. No, that would be stupid. Gerard definitely had better things to do. 

He might not even remember him, Frank realized and sent a second text to clarify. He debated turning autocaps back on. No, that was dramatic, he decided. He’d seem cooler and more casual with them off.

Frank realized he hadn’t introduced himself. He could be a scammer or a solicitor. He needed to send a third text. In his haste, he fucked up the spelling of his own name and had to send a fourth clarifying text.

Seeing the four texts in a row, he knew he looked pathetic. Gerard was over him and probably hated him for dragging him to a dirty gas station. Knowing 7-Eleven’s standards, Gerard probably had major gastrointestinal issues from the food Frank forced down his throat. This was useless. Time to give up.

Frank banged his head against an HVAC pipe in defeat. Seconds later, his phone pinged his text alert tone.

It was Gerard! Frank had to physically stop himself from making a squee noise.

Frank and Gerard started a back and forth and Frank felt his smile growing with every message. He took a risk and told Gerard he wanted to see him again. He let out a deep breath when Gerard not only accepted, but invited him over to his house. Frank had a date. Frank was feeling like hot shit.

Apparently, so was someone else. The machine room door went swinging open and in stepped his supervisor, Kay. They traded equally confused expressions.

“What are you doing in here? Why are you on your phone?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at him, suspecting shenanigans. 

“I’m, uh, on my 10.” He answered, trying to look as nonchalant as possible and failing dramatically.

“Your 10?” She raised an eyebrow at his lie. 

“Yup.” He nodded.

“In the machine room.” She pressed.

“The circuit breakers give me a sense of calm. You wouldn’t understand.” He waved her off and pocketed his phone, trying not to think about Gerard, lest he blush all the color in his body out onto his cheeks.

“Whatever, Iero. You’re some weird dude.” She passed him by and opened a metal box deeper in the room and started pressing buttons.

“What are you doing here, then?” He asked her.

Kay just sighed. “Mr. Stevens wants the sauna temperature turned down.”

“He got to you, too?”

“It’s what he requested. I didn’t want to deal with him so I figured I’d come down here and change it until someone else complains that it’s too cold so that I can come change it back.” Kay finished pressing buttons and closed the panel. The sauna would either cease to be a sauna or the entire country club would self destruct from the looks of it. Frank could get a kick out if it either way, really.

Kay eyed him inquisitively, looking at the way he’d been standing and his reluctance to meet her eyes.

“When you get back on the floor, make sure your phone is put away. Remember, you’re in uniform.” She said, walking out and letting the door slam behind her.

Once he was sure she was gone, Frank finished his I Have A Date Happy Dance. Because he did have a date. He had a date with Gerard. 

To prepare, Frank started a mental list in his head of all the ways he’d need to get his shit together in a few hours so as not to embarrass himself in front of cute boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for such a mini update but pt 2 is gonna be a thick chapter and I wanted to break it up


	5. ... won't mean anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3 part 2: Frank and Gerard's date ends differently than expected. Frank decides the game he wants to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as the writer of this story i highly recommend you check out the following twitter account for where I got gerard's mansion inspo/a running list of places we will need to drag a guillotine to once the revolution begins: twitter.com/Zillotine

Frank ended up having to steal a shirt from Tucker for his date, because his choice of attire left him, as Jamia put it, “completely unfuckable.” He thought he looked fine and didn’t smell too bad, but he was trying to dress to impress, so he gave into the idea pretty quickly.

His roommates sent him off like his parents on prom night, with Tucker adjusting his collar and Jamia smoothing his hair back. Once he was able to wrench himself out of their prying hands, he put the address Gerard had sent him in his maps app. 

They had been texting on and off throughout the day, mostly just questions and casual flirting. Frank learned that Gerard had a brother, three cats, and the house to himself, usually. That was convenient, because the amount of times he’d had to apologize to Tucker and Jamia for an unforgivably loud one night stand was more than he’d care to admit. There was always a judgemental stare from Tucker as the drummer was let back in his own room. And awkward explanation before the activities commenced about how they’d have to perform the sexual activities in a bunk bed. It was all bad, when Frank really thought about it.

Frank looked at the directions to Gerard’s place. Gerard lived with his parents in a proper house, which Frank did not at all blame him for. It was a smart plan and was looking more and more like an option he’d have to pursue if he couldn’t find an affordable two bedroom quick enough. No shame in living at home. Maybe Gerard would live in a cool basement or attic room, that would be nice.

Looking around the area, Gerard actually lived pretty close to the Alpine Club. It was in a neighborhood he had never been in before, even passing by. If it was Alpine proper, though, it was probably a pretty nice house. Frank wondered if Gerard had a pool, or maybe even a hot tub. A hot tub would be pleasant in the fall chill. Frank hoped there was room in Gerard’s garage for his car, because he definitely didn’t have the money for street parking.

As Frank drew closer to his destination, he became more and more aware that the house might be a bit different that he imagined. Like, yes, Gerard probably had some money. He was an Alpine Club member with a fucking Lexus. 

To be honest, Frank expected Gerard to live in a McMansion. Mismatched windows, a lawyer foyer, roof nub, the whole deal. But the houses he was starting to pass by were looking less like family homes and more like little towns. 

Did Gerard live at Pemberly Estate or something? It felt like it took minutes rather than seconds to drive past one house to the next. Frank was starting to get a creeping feeling that Gerard was proper rich, like butler and servant rich. Frank was in way out of his league. Should he have worn black tie formal for this date? He felt like the entire zip code could smell the poor on him. Like there would be a squadron of police coming to get him for even thinking about driving through such a place. He had never in his life felt so out of place.

“In a quarter mile, your destination will be on your left.” His maps guide announced. 

Frank turned to his left and let his eyes feast upon the mammoth he was approaching. 

“Holy shit.”

It was something out of a movie. It was something out of a dream. It wasn’t like the Frankie Dreamhouses he’d dreamt about as a kid. It was bigger than that. It was grander than that. Frank kept driving and driving and the house just kept going. Every time he swore he ran out of house, there was still more house to be had. This had to be wrong. This had to be a mistake. Gerard couldn’t live here. The one percent of the one percent lived here. The fat pigs of wall street lived here. The enemy lived here. That had him shivering to his core.

He spotted a security booth at the entrance and stopped before he got to it.

_i think im at ur house?_ He texted Gerard. He hoped that Gerard would realize his error and send him a completely new address, one miles away from here. 

Instead, he got a cheery response that confirmed his suspicions. 

_yay! :D i’ll let security know to let you in._

Frank cautiously pulled his car up to the booth guarding the gated entrance to the mansion. The man inside the booth wore sunglasses even though it was night and had a full beard clouding his expression. Frank kinda wanted to cry. He rolled down his window as slow as possible to speak to him.

“What’s your business here?” The man asked him, tone as dead as Frank's hopes for the night.

“Uhh,” he started, suddenly forgetting how speaking worked, “Gerard gave me this address. I must be at the wrong house, sorry.”

The man didn’t speak for a while but Frank could feel his eyes narrowing at him. “You’re the boy he said was coming over? What’s your name, kid?”

“Frank Iero.” He could feel the man looking him up and down, judging his hair and his clothes and his car and his _existence_.

“Let me see some ID.” The man stuck his hand out in waiting.

This felt worse than a traffic stop. Frank wanted to run. Frank kinda wanted to cry. Instead, he fished out his thrift store wallet and handed over his license.

The man scrutinized it for a while, but eventually grunted and nodded his head before handing it back to him. “Park in the motor court near the servant’s garage, not in front by the plaza fountain.” He told Frank, as if he knew what any of those words even meant. Frank just nodded.

And just like that, the gates opened for him and he was driving towards Gerard’s stone fucking mansion.

The closer he got, the more the place intimidated him. Because as he approached it, it became clear that this was a proper modern castle. The entire estate was about the size of a high school campus. The house was gigantic and the surrounding grounds were immaculate. Even the servant’s wing was nicer than any place he’d stayed in, Frank noted as he pulled his car through the port. 

His car practically withered in comparison to its surroundings. Frank was afraid to leave his car there in case they’d tow it when the residents found the sight of the dilapidated vehicle too much to bear. What if it got poverty on their cobblestone driveway? 

Frank felt a little bad for expecting the worst of Gerard’s family. Gerard seemed pretty cool the night before. He didn’t seem like the type to kick him off his property for bringing poor in. Then again, that was before Frank knew how egregiously Gerard was hoarding his wealth. Maybe Frank could steal a vase and put a security deposit down for a decent apartment. No, he was there for a date. He needed to just calm down and get over it.

It was a bit of a walk from his car to the front door of Gerard’s mansion. On his way, he passed by the fountain the guard told him not to park by and spotted a sleek silver Porsche with black accent stripes. He wondered if that belonged to a security detail that would escort him off the property, never to be seen again.

Frank realized he didn’t know the protocol for entering a house so grand. He suspected that knocking wasn’t the way to go. Who would even be able to hear? What if Gerard was in a whole different wing? They probably also didn’t have a doorbell. They had a security outpost. Anyone that was coming in would have to go through them first. He suspected he could loiter around the front plaza and text Gerard. Was that weird? Maybe they were so confident in their money and their guardsmen that they just left their doors unlocked. That seemed like some dumb shit rich people would do. Is that what he was expected to do? Just walk in?

Luckily, Frank was pulled from his thoughts by the giant wooden double doors swinging open. A flood of light spilled out from inside and a pop of red hair stood between them.

“Frankie!” Gerard shouted at the lost man. “Come in, come in. It’s so cold out.”

Frank brought his thicker jacket that day, just in case they would spend some time outside as they had the previous night. Obviously not, as Gerard came up to him wearing a ripped black shirt that looked like it had seen better days and skin tight black jeans. It was definitely a contrast to the fur coat and suit, but it suited him, Frank thought. It also suggested that they’d be indoors and not subjected to the elements this time around.

“Hey Gerard.” Frank waved awkwardly, inching closer to the entrance without actually going inside. 

Gerard wasn’t having it. He grabbed Frank’s hand and pulled him into his mansion and his world. Frank could do nothing but be led into Gerard’s grand foyer. He felt like he was on an episode of MTV Cribs.

“I’ve got a little setup in the den with some snacks and stuff the kitchen staff whipped up. Don’t want it to get cold!” Gerard pulled him through the room and deeper in the mansion. Frank craned his head to look around. 

Frank didn’t know much about Gerard’s family, but he could tell just by looking that modesty wasn’t a word in their vocabulary. He felt like he was in Buckingham Palace. He had never been to England and didn’t know much about the Royals except that they were mostly full of shit, but he felt like their palace probably looked like this. It was too big, soulless, and needlessly opulent. It was a house for show, for the benefit of other people’s entertainment. He hated it.

There were grand paintings and sculptures and a chandelier that looked better fit for an opera house. They passed by room after room, all filled with pristine, exquisite furniture and decorations. It blurred before his eyes. He was still processing the fact he was there and on a date and this was where his date lived. It was honestly shocking that this was where _anybody_ lived. It didn’t feel like a place where real people lived. It didn’t feel human. 

Gerard narrated a small tour as they made either way to their destination. “So that way is the living room, and there’s our kitchen, behind it is the staff kitchen, but you won’t need anything from there. There’s a breakfast nook there and the formal dining room is over on the other side of the foyer. Over here is the library. That door is for the ballroom. And here,” Gerard paused as they finally came to a stop, “is the den.”

Frank was about to begin toiling with the idea that Gerard had an actual _ballroom_ in his house when he saw the den. It was at that point he stopped thinking about anything else. He felt like he was walking into the Phantom’s lair. There were candles on just about every surface and rose petals scattered about. It was probably smoke from the many candles, but it almost felt as if there was fog drifting about the entire room. Walking into the space, he half wondered whether Gerard would start singing Music of the Night.

In the middle of the room on a coffee table were platters of snacks and deserts. It wasn’t chips and dip. In fact, Frank didn’t know what most of the snacks were. He was pretty sure that one of the dishes held caviar, though. The deserts seemed normal enough, at least. There were things like chocolate covered strawberries, which Frank wouldn’t say no to. There were two couches opposite one another with the table in the middle. He supposed he should sit, but felt awkward doing so. It wasn’t his house and the couches were very clean, almost as if no one actually sat on them. 

“What do you think?” Gerard asked, gesturing to it all and smiling.

“Uh.” Frank was mostly speechless. He hadn’t been expecting any of this. He thought the impromptu date would be casual and chill. This felt like an episode of the Bachelor.

Gerard went to the snack table and popped the cork on the bottle of red wine in the middle. “I brought up a Pinot Noir. If that’s not your thing, just let me know and I’ll find something else.”

Frank said nothing, just took the glass of wine Gerard offered him and continued looking around in case a cameraman would pop out and reveal the stunt. No one did. Instead, Gerard sat down on one of the rose covered couches and began sipping his wine.

Gerard patted the area beside him on the couch, inviting Frank to join him. Frank became immediately aware that he was still standing stiff by the door, not having moved for the past minute or so.

Frank walked over to the other couch and sat on the edge of the seat, feeling very uncomfortable and out of place. Gerard didn’t seem to notice. 

“So, how was work?” Gerard asked, leaning over the table. “You didn’t tell me what you do.”

“Uh.” Frank repeated. “I just, uh, you know, I, I do the normal stuff.” 

Frank sunk into the couch and took a gulp of wine. He didn’t know how to explain his work situation. In fact, it was something he really didn’t want to discuss. How does one enter the most fancy building one has ever been in and explain that they clean towels and walk dogs for money. Maybe Gerard would hire him to walk his dogs and fold his towels. He suspected he’d get paid very well for that.

The wine was very good, that was immediately apparent. It tasted like grapes and fruit other things Frank didn’t know how to describe but enjoyed greatly. It was much better than the box wine he usually bought from Rite Aid, which tasted less like grapes and more like gasoline with undertones of nail polish remover. 

“This wine is very good. Where did you find it?” Frank asked, steering the subject away from work.

Gerard took the bait. “Oh, yeah! Some family friends of ours own a vineyard in California. It was a passion project of theirs. They really liked wine, so they thought, might as well make it. One day, we were at a wine tasting that their wines were featured in. I fell in love with this vineyard’s wines. Turns out it wasn’t theirs, but one of their biggest rivals. Oh well, I bought like ten cases.”

Frank gave a half-hearted laugh, mostly to appease Gerard since he could not relate to a single thing he said. He apprehensively reached for a chocolate covered strawberry so that he’d have something to do with his hands.

“Oh, yes, I almost forgot. I had the kitchen whip us up a few snacks. I wasn’t sure if you had eaten. I can get them to make dinner if you haven’t eaten. Just say the word.” 

Gerard’s smile looked overdone and fake to Frank. He was starting to wonder if he had made a mistake. Maybe the night before was some sort of fever dream or a one off. He looked around at the overdramatic surroundings and the boy before him. The midnight date had been a fluke. He wasn’t part of this world. He’d never be.

“I’m good, thanks.” He gave a small smile to put Gerard at ease.

They sat in silence for a while after that. It wasn’t like the day before, when they were tapping their fingers to The Rodneys or listening to the sounds of the waves lapping. It wasn’t comfortable. Frank didn’t know what to say. He was feeling so overwhelmed. 

He sat beside the opulence that Gerard probably never noticed. He lived here, surrounded by it all, unaware. He had staff to cook him an array of snacks at his beck and call. Frank drank cheap beer on a lumpy couch and debated which bill to miss a payment on every month. There was a security guard keeping the pests from reaching the ivory tower of his mansion. Meanwhile, Frank walked with a butterfly knife in his pocket in case he got jumped. He felt like he’d spent his whole life holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and here Gerard was, without a worry to plague his silly little mind.

Frank was wasting his time here. This guy went to the Alpine Club. Frank was practically his servant. He was just fooling himself to think this fantasy could work out. Besides, didn’t he have principles?

He thought of sitting in his friend Kyle’s basement in college and talking shit about CEOs and unearned wealth and who they should guillotine first when the revolution came. That was the first time he felt like he _got_ the world. He got that to _hem_ , to people like Gerard, he was nothing. Shouldn’t he be disgusted by himself for even wanting him? 

He looked up at Gerard, who was nervously fidgeting with his wine glass and looking at Frank hopefully. He looked at Frank like he was _someone_. Like he was a person worth all the trouble of setting up a romantic date in the den. He didn’t know. He didn’t get it. Gerard didn’t understand that Frank wasn’t this person at all.

“Gerard. There’s something I should tell you.” Frank started.

“Yes?” Gerard’s eyes went wide and he leaned further forward to hear. There was only one way to know whether Gerard was worth his time and that was to let him know who he really was, and see his reaction. 

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, but I’m-” Frank’s epic confession speech moment was cut off by the door to the den opening and a man dressed in what looked a lot like a butler’s suit entering the room. 

“Mister Way, I hate to interrupt, but I have heard from your father. He has a message for you.” The man spoke.

“Well Stefan, if you hate to interrupt, then don’t.” Gerard practically hissed at the servant. Frank turned back to Gerard and almost didn’t recognize him with the disgust he wore on his face. “I’m so sorry Frank, please continue. You didn’t mean to what?”

Gerard’s expression was soft and warm when he turned to face him once more. He looked almost apologetic. Not at his treatment of his staff, but at the fact his staff dare walk in to do their job. And really, that told Frank all he needed to know.

“I’m gonna go.” Frank put the crystal glass down carefully on the table and walked out, letting the ringing of the glass on metal echo through the empty room as he left.

Frank could hardly breathe as he stormed out of the den and made his way out of the mansion. He was so stupid. How could he think he had a chance? How could he think that Gerard wasn’t just like every other wealthy person he’d met? He just wanted to get out of the house and forget the whole mess ever happened. 

Problem was, the house was fucking huge and he realized he had no idea where he was going. It put such a damper on his reality tv level storm off. 

Fuck. He could’ve sworn the entrance was just a turn to the right. But then he was in a hallway he’d never been in before. There were angel paintings on the walls. The hallway coming in definitely had paintings of flowers and fruit. Frank remembered because even as he was in a frenzy being pulled along by Gerard, he noticed that the banana in the fruit painting looked like a dick. 

He stilled when he realized he hit a dead end. Damn it, he couldn’t even make a dramatic exit properly. Gerard was definitely going to sic the security dogs on him now. Frank wouldn’t even know where to go to run away from them.

“Are you okay?” A voice from behind him asked. It wasn’t Gerard or the servant from before. The voice sounded like Gerard’s might if the redhead didn’t speak directly from his nose. Frank turned and saw that the guy looked strikingly similar to Gerard as well. Not only that, but he looked extremely familiar, like he’d seen him somewhere.

“Weren’t you on the cover of a magazine?” Frank asked, both answering and not answering the man’s question.

His face shifted from concerned to unamused. Frank looked at the gray beanie on the man’s head and the headphones around his neck. He could have been anyone from an angry Alpine Club member to someone he used to get high with in college. He had that kind of mid twenties _idgaf_ look that would suit a homeless man screaming at a wall or the son of a business tycoon.

Son of a business tycoon… Frank noticed the sharp jaw and tired eyes and realized who he was. He’d seen him yesterday, when he was working the charity gala. He’d come into the staff room to personally thank the chef and some of the head staff. He looked very different in such casual clothing, but this was the guest of honor at the event he poured champagne at.

“You’re Michael Way.” Frank examined the face, the features, the voice, everything. “You’re Gerard’s brother.”

It suddenly all clicked. Gerard was a Way. One of the richest families in the US. They ran Way Industries, some multinational conglomerate type deal that Frank was sure was evil and secretly like, spit roasting babies to keep their success. But, even against the backdrop of the mansion, the brothers seemed like normal, albeit very rich, people. They didn’t seem like they were responsible for the climate crisis or the economic crash or abject poverty. He should automatically hate them.

Instead, he was just confused. Where was the pronged tail? Where were the bat wings? Michael didn’t have either of those, but he did have a spot of dried drool on the side of his mouth.

“I am. Well, most people call me Mikey. Are you Frank?” 

Frank nodded, leaning against the wall now that he was starting to calm down.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I was just trying to find my way out and got lost.”

Mikey’s confusion mimicked Frank’s now. “I thought you and Gerard had a date. He’s been going crazy about just about all day. I could feel his nerves from my bedroom.”

That, just sounded like an outright lie. Gerard had no need to get nervous; he had money and a shiny, red pair of lips. People like him were either born without nerves or had them surgically removed. Plus he walked around with such a strong air of self assurance, that he would’ve guessed he already had Frank’s heart stored in a designer bag. But _Gerard_ had been nervous to see _him?_ He was no one to write home about.

“Oh, I didn’t know.” 

Mikey put his hand on Frank's shoulder. “You never told me whether you were okay. Did something happen?”

Frank hardly had a reason to, but he trusted Mikey. “I’m really overwhelmed right now. I thought we were just gonna have pizza and watch a movie, like normal people. But then I got here and there’s a tray of food and wine and candles and roses and I don’t know if you guys realize, but this house is so damn big. I didn’t expect this. I don’t know how to react. I’m not like you guys.”

Mikey laughed like he understood, which he didn’t. But, it comforted Frank nonetheless and he followed Mikey through the doors and hallways he was sure looked differently just a second ago “Come on, let’s sit down and have some boring old potato chips and talk.”

Mikey led him into the kitchen, a large open area that looked like it was meant to feed a family of twenty. He gave Frank some more calming words. 

“I told him it was a lot, but he didn’t believe me. I saw the state dad’s den was in before you got here, rose petals and all. But, he means well, really. He really likes you, which is just how Gerard is. He finds something he likes and gets fixated on it. He wanted to impress you and doesn’t know how to stop.” 

They sat at the bar stools on the kitchen island. Mikey passed a bowl of greasy potato chips his way and slid him an unopened can of coke. Popping open the tab and hearing the fizz inside was nice. It was simple, something he understood. Frank sank into the comfort of it. The world felt a little smaller, more manageable after a while.

“I didn’t really need to be impressed. Trust me, I was sufficiently wooed at that point. I kind of wanted to just spend time with him, you know?”

Mikey nodded, popping a few chips in his mouth, not bothering to hide the crunch noises.

“Yeah, I feel that. But subtlety isn’t in his vocabulary. If my partner did the whole dungeon of love deal for me, I’d assume I was either getting proposed to or punked.”

“It was a lot.”

They shared a laugh and for the first time since he arrived, Frank felt calm. 

“Gee doesn’t really date a lot. I mean, he doesn’t really leave the house a lot, but still. The way he reacted to you.” Mikey shook his head in disbelief. “He’s really into you Frank. I know this place my parents call a house is a bit much. Mom and dad only bought it so they could show off to everybody and brag about how they made it in life, but it does get lonely here. This is all we knew and Gerard’s never left, so it’s all he knows. I don’t know what your feelings about him are but if you like him even a tenth as much as he likes you, try looking past it. He’s actually a really cool guy when you get to know him.”

Mikey smiled at Frank with the right side of his lips tilting higher than the left. It reminded Frank of how Gerard would talk out of only one side of his mouth. It was endearing. Frank felt a tug at his heart and found himself yearning for Gerard once more.

“I really like him, too. I don’t know. When I met him, there was this instant connection. I can’t explain it. But, look at this place.” Frank gestured to the lifeless luxury of their surroundings. “No one should have this. I feel like I’m in the epicenter of greed. No offense.”

Mikey nodded in agreement. “None taken. You know Frank, you may be the only person in Alpine with a soul.”

Frank hissed, sucking in a breath. He technically had been planning to explain to Gerard how on a scale of one to massive stone mansion, he was about a Showtime’s Shameless. “About that.”

“Frank?” Gerard’s voice sounded so small as it drifted over from the other side of the kitchen. It sounded sad, scared almost. Frank did his best to ignore the icy feeling in him from knowing he was the one who caused that.

“Hey Gee,” Mikey greeted his brother, “Frank got a little turned around trying to find the bathroom, so I showed him around.”

“Oh,” Gerard looked down, ashamed almost, “I guess I should’ve done that.”

“It’s cool.” Mikey responded. He stood up from the island and started to clean up his food and drinks. Clearing the air for them to have the space to themselves. 

Gerard moved closer to Frank, running his hands through his floppy hair and avoiding eye contact.

“Was that too much?” Gerard asked Frank shyly, gazing up at him through his lashes. “I didn’t mean to come off so forward. I’ve not done the dating thing in a while, so I guess I’m a bit rusty. I just really wanted tonight to be cool and romantic, so I went a bit overboard. But we don’t have to go back there. We could listen to music or make a cake or play DnD or something.”

And just like that, Frank was pulled into his orbit once more.

“Gerard’s really good at art. You should show him your art room.” Mikey suggested, slipping his headphones back on and walking out, his job done.

Frank turned to Gerard who was still waiting expectantly. Art was good. Frank got art. He surely wasn’t any good at it, but as a failing musician he could at least connect with the artistic mind. Plus, anything he attempted to bake instantly caught flames and he wasn’t ready to let Gerard see him go full DnD mode. That was more of a fiftieth date thing. His dwarf voice wasn’t for everyone.

“The art room sounds interesting. I’d be down for some color by number or some finger painting.” 

Gerard considered for a moment and then nodded. He jerked his head to the side, beckoning Frank to join him. “Unfortunately I don’t have any coloring books, but I do have some fun pop culture stuff and a drafting table. All the stuff is in my art-slash-comic-slash-music-slash-memorabilia room downstairs. I’d call it a man cave but that’s dumb so I guess its Gerard’s underground nerd bunker?”

His arms were wrapped around himself in a protective fashion, like he was getting ready to defend himself from a verbal onslaught. Frank got the impression that his art and interests had drawn a negative reaction from people before. His frustration from earlier softened further as Gerard wormed his way back in his heart. 

“That’s literally the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. I have like, a nerd shelf, at best. I’m like a level one nerd.” Frank explained. He was probably more of a level ten nerd if he thought about it. He just didn’t have much to show it. 

Gerard attempted to hide the rays of his smile but failed. Frank tried to remind himself that behind those little teeth was a filthy capitalist, but he was having trouble trying to convince himself of it.

“I’ll teach you my ways.”

They navigated yet even more hallways and even a hidden staircase. Frank was starting to get the impression that “bunker” was a more accurate descriptor than he originally thought. The house was big enough as it was. Did it really need to go underground, too?

When Frank entered the room, he was reminded of the first time he went to Dave & Busters as a kid. He had thought the computer room at his cousin’s house was the coolest place ever at the time. But, when he got into D&B’s, he realized there was a whole amusement park of sights and sounds just a few blocks away in the local strip mall. It was overwhelming. There was so much going on. He never wanted to leave. Then he grew up and playing some game a kid had just snotted all over was less endearing. The cheap booze made up for it, though. Entering Gerard’s nerd bunker, he felt like the same rush of emotion. His little geek heart giggled and his hands screamed “touchtouchtouch!” at his surroundings. 

There was a wall of built-in shelving housing comics from the floor to the ceiling. There were limited edition issues, variants, original prints, signed anthologies. It was like Gerard was building his own personal library. Frank wanted to poke through each one. There were similar shelves filled with books, DVDs, magazines, and memorabilia items alongside their counterparts all around the walls of the room.

Gerard had a personalized Harry Potter wand displayed beside the book series and a signed issue of Madonna's first Rolling Stone cover in a protective glass case. Frank had to fight the urge to walk over and take it out just to touch the same paper Madonna had touched.

By the DVDs, there was a cat shaped mask on a stand next to a particular film Frank hadn’t seen in years, and for good reason.

“You own Catwoman? Why?” Frank asked, bewildered.

He realized it was the first thing he had said aloud since they entered the man cave. Well, besides the oohs and ahhs he let slip out involuntarily. It might’ve come off as a bit rude, but it was a valid question. There was no sane reason to own Catwoman 2004.

Gerard narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? It was a fun movie. I liked it.”

Frank scoffed. “Yeah, like a root canal is fun. It was universally panned.”

Gerard turned his sharp chin up at him. “I don’t particularly care to hear what reviewers say.”

“Well, I didn’t particularly care to watch Halle Berry dribble a basketball or jump around on all fours for two hours, but that’s just me.” Frank said, judgement dripping from his voice.

Gerard eyed him critically. “I thought that showed great dedication to character. But the basketball scene, touché.” 

Frank took the small victory and strutted further into the playroom. There was a table at the far end, covered in paper and pencils. Frank supposed that was the art part of the art room. But, there was also a record player next to a particularly shaggy black couch. Really though, Frank had been sure it was a sleeping Collie for a second, but it didn’t move and had throw pillows on it and was very couch in shape, so Frank reasoned it could be sat on humanely.

Shining like a beacon in the fluorescent lighting, begging for Frank's attention, was one of the most beautiful ladies Frank had ever seen. He was almost offended that she wasn’t in the center of the room like she deserved. She was a star, baby. A twinkling ball of light if Frank had ever seen one.

“Baby!” He shouted, running towards it.

Gerard made a “huh” noise. He hadn’t been expecting the sudden wave of emotion. Especially over a simple guitar. 

“She’s not just a simple guitar!” Frank protested. Gerard yelped, not realizing how out loud he had been thinking. Frank let his eyes stroke over her body, unsure if he was worthy of touching her. “She’s gorgeous.”

“I got it at an auction. Thought it would fit the aesthetic I have going on.”

Frank shivered at the statement. “You own a vintage 1960s Gibson Byrdland for the _aesthetic_?” 

Gerard simply shrugged. “I thought it looked cool.”

Frank held his hands in front of the guitar as if it were a space heater. But instead of heat, he was trying to absorb the magical rock auras it was clearly emitting. If Gerard wasn’t going to appreciate her for what she was, Frank sure as shit would.

“If you want to touch it you can.” Gerard encouraged.

Frank looked up at him as if Gerard had just suggested he grab the crown jewels with his bare hands. He debated it for a second. He didn’t often get the chance to feel something so powerful beneath his palm. Maybe holding her would grant him good fortune, like a genie or something.

Frank still looked skeptical as he reached out to lift her off her perch, and Gerard was having none of that ambivalence in his hall of good vibes, so he reached out to grab it and shove it into Frank’s hands instead.

Their hands happened to be reaching for the same place at the same time. Frank’s hand brushed against Gerard’s right before either of them could take hold of it. They felt a shock run between them, but it wasn’t one caused by electricity, but instead by undeniable connection. 

Frank could’ve sworn Gerard's hair blew back and all the lights dimmed save for a single spotlight aimed at his startled face, but that was probably just his imagination. And if “Take My Breath Away” played softly around them as they locked eyes, then Frank would stand by his imagination for that music choice. If Frank had been indulging in too many 80s romance movies, that was his business.

Gerard stepped back after a while, shoving his hand in his pocket so he’d stop feeling so nervous about where Frank touched it. He motioned toward the guitar.

“Go ahead.”

Spurred on by the interaction, Frank gripped the guitar in his palm and sat on the couch, sitting it over his lap.

It felt smooth beneath his skin, everything he wanted it to be and more. He let his fingers rest on the strings and he began to pick away at a melody.

Gerard was staring at him entranced. He’d already been convinced that Frank was his real life dreamboy, but seeing him playing music on his guitar really sealed the deal on the whole crush thing. The guitar wasn’t plugged into an amp, so it didn’t particularly sound like anything, but the image was enough for him.

“You play guitar?” Gerard asked, as he sat directly in front of him playing the guitar. He kicked himself for a second. “That was stupid. I meant, like, professionally.”

Frank chuckled a little. “I dabble. I’m not the best, but my friends and I jam from time to time.”

What he meant was he owned a guitar he got from a yard sale and played backup for his friends in hopes that one day, he could find himself as a guitarist in a real band. If his little Stratocaster could hold on long enough for him to write the next great rock hit, that is.

“You’ll need to play for me sometime.” 

Frank nodded, absentmindedly playing chords. “Sure. Just name a time and place.” The statement was sprinkled with hope, which was lost to neither of them.

Eventually, Frank decided to let her rest and moved on to the art table, the whole reason they had come down in the first place.

For an art table, there was surprisingly little art. There were scraps of notes and ripped out pages of magazines that had been scribbled on with permanent marker. There was the occasional stick figure or two and a single bat doodled onto the corner of a receipt, but not the art Frank was expecting. He thought there would be paint or easels or charcoal sketches, but the papers on the table just looked like a mess.

“So where’s your art? Your brother said you were good.” Frank asked, picking through the array of pens and pencils in a Darth Vader shaped cup near him. Gerard fell noticeably silent at that.

Frank’s attention was pulled from a fancy looking calligraphy pen that he could use to sign his name or draw a very pretentious looking pair of balls if he were feeling frisky. He felt Gerard’s uneasy air from across the table and it dragged him away from the childish thought. Frank looked up and could immediately tell it was a sore subject. Gerard wasn’t just avoiding his gaze, but the gazes of all art related objects in the room, as if they might accidentally tattle on him if he looked at them. Frank felt his stomach sink. He shouldn’t have brought it up.

“Or not. I was just curious, but if you’d prefer it to be a personal thing, that’s cool, too.” Frank dropped the pen and stepped away from the art table, in case this was like a game of Operation and just touching it would make Gerard uncomfortable.

“No, no, it’s just, I don’t like showing it to people.” Gerard sighed and finally looked away from the wall beside him and over to Frank. “I’m kinda insecure about it.”

Frank put his hands up in defense. “Hey, I get that. I do. If someone found the lyrics I wrote and like judged them in front of me, I’d probably jump out the window. Forget I asked.”

His joking nature brought a little lightness back to Gerard’s face and he bit his lip nervously. It was like the girls in John Hughes movies always did before the boys kissed them. Frank wondered if the lights would dim and an 80s ballad would finally play in the background if he walked over and kissed Gerard then. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just.” Gerard gestured around himself, trying to convey his indecision, but to Frank it was just a puzzling game of charades. He held his palms out, open, as if the answer would just appear in them, but it didn’t, so he shoved his fists by his sides. If he couldn’t find the answers he’d just have to make them up for himself. “You know what? Fuck it. Let’s go look at my art.”

“Go?” Frank wondered aloud as Gerard reached over, grabbed his hand and dragged him through the house once more.

“We have to do this now, or I’ll just chicken out again.” He shouted back at Frank.

Frank had no idea what that meant. He also didn’t know where he was going or _why_ he was going. Shouldn’t Gerard’s art have been, he didn’t know, in the Art Room? The name implied it. Instead he was being dragged further into Gerard’s basement, which was looking less like a bunker basement and more like a town square. 

They reached the room rather quickly, which was good because all this running around was making Frank a little tired. It wasn’t something he had to worry about in his own place, where five steps could take him into the bedroom, bathroom, or kitchen. He never thought he’d get tuckered out walking around someone’s house.

When Gerard swung open the door, the lights were all off, so Frank was confused as to what the room exactly contained. His hand was dropped and Gerard retreated into the darkness, leaving Frank to wait anxiously in the doorway. It was pretty dark inside. The room could’ve been a warehouse or a broom closet and Frank would’ve been none the wiser. After being left alone for a little too long, Frank began to worry.

What if Gerard’s art was bad? He wasn’t prepared to put on a fake smile if Gerard’s art was like ugly puppets or lumpy pottery bowls or like, eerily realistic furry porn. What if it was just the same house with one door and window and tree and smiling sun in the corner that every kid drew in kindergarten? Should he clap and call it breathtaking or lay down the facts. 

He didn’t want to break Gerard’s heart but if the first impression was bad, Frank wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back. When he was a teen, his mother tried becoming a nail tech. Since Frank was a sad emo boy and wore nail polish to express his sad emo feelings, she would practice on him. It was always ugly. He would grit his teeth and say, “Wow mom, you’re a natural.” But the cringe always found a way onto his face. His mom gave up after two months.

And his mom _had_ to like him since she pooped him out and all. There were no guarantees here.

The lights flipped on and Frank had to squint for a second at the change in brightness. When he opened his eyes, though, his breath was taken away. He could hardly believe what he was seeing. It felt like he's living a moment in history. Like he was setting his future in ink. Seeing some art in a basement shouldn't have felt like the beginning of a lifetime, but it did.

“Holy shit.”

The room was gigantic. It was a basketball court, or at least it once was, which was already a lot to consider seeing as he was inside someone’s house. But then he looked up and saw it and it was like he’d been transported. He was in a field of Gerard’s mind, where his ideas and thoughts grew wild and free, and it wasn’t empty or shallow or even vain. It was breathtaking.

Frank was surrounded by photographs, littered everywhere from the walls to the ceiling and across the floor. Some were small, like the kind he could keep on a bookshelf, but others were large, blown up and taller than him, spanning the wall itself. None were simple. 

The pictures were all touched, messed with in one way or the other. Some had glitter sprinkled throughout, others had paint drawn through the eyes. A few looked like they’d been graffitied on. There were comments on them, like “too sharp” or “no clear subject.” Those appeared to be Gerard’s own comments on his work, but they felt like art just as much as the rest. 

They were larger than life and standing before them made Frank feel so small. It was like when he went to see the Statue of Liberty for the first time as a kid. He’d seen pictures in books, he’d even seen it out of the window a few times when he’d been to New York. But it wasn’t until he went to Liberty Island on a field trip with his school and stood beneath it, looked up at it, that he fully appreciated her towering form for what it was. Her proud stance, her unwavering gaze as she stared out to New York Harbor, it made him feel human. 

As Frank drifted through, inspecting Gerard’s pieces, he felt like they were looking back at him. Some pieces looked more finished than others, some were darker, more tortured, but all captured Frank’s attention like a moth to a flame. They drew him in. There were so many, it almost felt like they were consuming his world, like they would jump out and drift into his reality.

Gerard was standing by a breaker panel at the far corner, looking like he was ready to throw up.

“You made these?” Frank asked, entranced.

It was like a million different things ran through Gerard’s head. Doubt, shame, excitement. He couldn’t reach out and pick an emotion out of the million running past him, so he let them scurry by.

“I know. It’s really weird. It’s freaky and it’s not even good. I tried pastels, watercolors, I even tried cartooning. I was shit at all of it. But, my dad stopped using the gym and my camera was lying around, so I just…” Gerard trailed off and turned to a piece in front of him.

It was one of the more finished pieces. It looked almost like a collage. A photo of a young man in a black and white superhero costume was superimposed over the New York City skyline. There were glass shards glued onto the skyscrapers and a half smoked cigarette pasted into the guy’s open hand with ashes dripping down. 

Gerard turned to Frank, fear clouding his features, worry evident in his eyes. “You can tell me the truth. I can take it. If you hate it, I’d rather you just say it.”

Frank watched Gerard’s jaw visibly clench. He couldn’t understand how someone could make something as beautiful as the art around them and think so low of it. Frank took another glance at the boy above the shattered glass skyscrapers and felt like he understood Gerard a little more in that moment. 

It occurred to Frank that Gerard wasn’t just showing him his hobby, he was giving him a glimpse of his soul. He was a spoiled little rich boy. A brat in a shaggy, thousand dollar fur coat. A man who thought so highly of himself he disrespected his servants without a second though. But he was also this, a man reduced to black and white, left to watch the world turn underneath him.

Frank found himself wandering toward Gerard without meaning to. It was like there was a magnet softly pulling him toward the redhead. Then, before he knew it, his lips were on Gerard’s and he was kissing the fears and worries away. It was like watching a timer wind down and finally hit it's destination. But, instead of an alarm going off, it was every cell in his body leaping through his veins.

Gerard’s lips were softer than the day before and warmer, too. Frank suspected that it was because there was not imminent hypothermia hanging over their heads, but it made his mouth all the more tempting. Frank held Gerard’s chin with his thumb and pulled it down, leaving his mouth open for Frank to stick his tongue in. Gerard slid his fingers into Frank’s hair and pulled him even closer. It wasn't close enough.

For a few moments, there was nothing but the sound of their lips moving together echoing through the open basketball court. Frank got lost in it. He forgot who he was and where he was. There weren't three more floors of mansion above them, there wasn’t his empty bunk bed a couple of miles away. There wasn’t his poverty looming over his head and there wasn’t their obvious class difference prodding at the back of his mind. There was just him and Gerard and the twenty foot high faces watching over them.

He didn’t want to admit it because admitting it would betray all his principles and every strongly held belief in his head, but Frank felt like he could get used to this. He wouldn’t even mind. He tucked that thought away in his head for later.

His calves _were_ starting to hurt from being on his tiptoes for so long, though, so he brought them back down and settled back.

“Hey.” Frank whispered, just a breath away from Gerard now that he had pulled back.

“Hey.” Gerard’s smile felt so warm to Frank after having seen his apprehension.

They breathed against each other for a moment, needing nothing more for the time being.

“That couch back in your nerd bunker looked pretty comfy. What do you say we make our way back there?” 

Frank could feel Gerard’s giggle against his lips. “Have any ideas as to what you’d like to do on that couch Frankie?”

Frank twisted his face in mock confusion. “We could always watch Catwoman.” 

Gerard kissed the laugh out of Frank’s mouth. “So long as you distract me enough that I don’t have to watch it.”

They made their way back to the shaggy lounge couch which magically fit both of them. Granted, they were pretty much one on top of the other, but still.

For a few minutes or an hour, they laid against each other, lazily letting their fingers thread in one another’s hair as their lips dragged against one another's. They didn’t end up putting on Catwoman, but Gerard did put a Smashing Pumpkins record on. They kept making out even after Corgan grew silent and they’d ridden the label.

Frank pet Gerard’s hair and decided he liked the way it felt between his fingers, day old grease and all. More importantly, he liked the way Gerard felt beneath his fingers. His skin was soft and smooth, unlike Frank’s which was covered in scratches and scars and calluses. It was like he had never worked a day in his life, because he hadn’t. Still, the unblemished quality of it was fascinating. He liked running the pad of his thumb over it. He liked the way Gerard’s breath hitched as he did so.

After about an hour of that, they each got tired and Frank let Gerard’s head rest on his chest. Gerard watched it rise and fall as he breathed. He leaned into Frank’s thumb, which was stroking his temple.

“I loved your art, you know. I didn’t have the words to say it then, but it was really beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re a talented artist.”

Frank felt Gerard shrug on top of him.

“I don’t know why I started doing it, to be honest. At first, I just wanted to take pretty pictures. So I could get a few likes on social media, or something. But the little prints I made weren’t enough, so I made them bigger, and that wasn’t enough, so I started destroying them. I keep wanting them to be more than they are, more than reality. I want them to grow past their medium, to jump out of the frame they’re confined in. I don’t know. I’m not making any sense.”

Gerard shook his head and moved up to bury his face against Frank’s neck. The tickle of Gerard’s breathing made him shiver.

“I think it makes perfect sense. Or none at all. I thought they were fuckin’ awesome. I think you should keep going with it.” 

Frank wrapped his arms around Gerard’s torso, letting him relax into the touch.

“Maybe,” Gerard considered. “Maybe.”

They laid in silence for a while. Frank thought about how the pictures made him feel. He had such a visceral reaction to them, one he had a hard time describing. It was like it was beyond emotion. Few things ever made him feel that way. Gerard sighed into his skin. Few people made him feel that way.

“I don’t want you to go.” Gerard mumbled, kissing a sensitive patch on his neck as if to prove a point.

“I think I made it pretty obvious that I’m staying the night, Gee.”

Gerard held himself up on his elbows so as to look Frank directly in the eyes as he said, “No, I mean like. I like it when you’re here with me. I don’t want you to leave… me.” His stare did not waver.

Was he saying what Frank thought he was saying? It was what he had wanted to hear since he let the flame of his lighter catch on the end of the man’s cigarette so few hours before. It was all moving so quickly. But feeling what he felt about him already, he couldn’t imagine it going any other way.

“So what you’re saying is, you want to be with me?” Frank asked, mentally preparing himself for the answer.

Gerard let his lips rest on Franks for a second more before continuing.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, so I might be shit at it, but I’d try really hard and I’d buy you 7-Eleven slurpees and put on punk records when you’re around and get you out of your head when your mind is racing. I’d be a good boyfriend to you if you’d let me, Frank.”

In that moment, Frank commits treason against himself. When he had previously considered himself as a person, he thought he was pretty strong willed, and stuck to his core ideals like shit did to the bottom of a shoe. Ideals like keep the faith in times of trouble and treat those close in heart like family and death before decaf. And most definitely ideals like fuck authority and fuck the rich. But here, pressed up against Gerard, feeling his pulse beneath his fingers and wondering if it was his own heart pushing blood through his veins, that last pillar he leaned on for so long felt weaker, like it could crumble.

“I would let you. But it doesn't matter what I would let you do. Because I _want_ to do all that and more with you."

Gerard smiled brightly at him and it was like new emotions were taking root in his chest, because in his entire life, he couldn’t remember feeling someone else’s joy in his body. He felt that smile at the bottom of his throat and under his ribs. He brought him down for more kisses, craving the contact, needing to feel every inch of him soothing his tired soul. Gerard laid his head on his chest once more and Frank felt at home, which made no sense. He was a stranger in a foreign land, a sheep in wolf’s clothing. It shouldn’t feel so right. But it did.

For the first time in his life, as he snuggled up to Gerard on his plush couch, he figured that this life couldn’t be so bad. He was deep in a mansion built and run on the backs of workers just like him. It was furnished with stolen wealth and unearned riches. Frank should’ve felt more disgusted at himself. Instead he just felt content. If given the chance, he could maybe even enjoy it.

Frank looked down at Gerard’s tranquil form on his chest. His wild red hair was spread messily in every direction and his features were relaxed with sleep. Frank leaned down and left a soft kiss on the crown of his head.

He couldn’t give this up. No, he wouldn’t. But he also knew that being who he was, he wouldn’t get to keep it.

So, he would lie, he decided. He’d convince Gerard he was like him and worthy of him, instead of the forgettable, broke failure he was. He lied to people every day at work with a smile on his face, so surely a simple bit of persuasion shouldn’t take much work at all. And if it was what it would take to have this every night, then he’d find a way to dupe the entire population of Alpine into believing he had all the riches he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okayokayokay so 1 more sappy love scene. i wrote two different endings for this chapter that i hated before settling for this one :))


	6. you walked in and oops-a-daisy! it's a guest!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> episode 4: a tale of two surprise guests; or Frank's plan is set in motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for all the love that's come in recently! i genuinely appreciate every kudo, comment, & hit y'all give ❤️

So, Gerard liked kissing Frank. Like, _really_ liked kissing Frank. 

He woke up on top of a tiny snoring Frank and kissed him awake. Frank complained a little bit and tried to go back to sleep, but that was no problem, because no one was better at complaining than Gerard. So, he just kissed him some more and Frank eventually caved. They both had morning breath, but Gerard didn’t care because Frank’s soft, warm lips were worth the stench.

After they got up, he wrapped his arms around Frank’s waist and kissed his neck as he went poking through the wall of comics. He kissed him on the lips when he was being very cute and standing on his tippy-toes trying to reach one of the higher shelves. He was grumbly when Gerard ended up grabbing it for him, but his bright smile broke through when Gerard banished his pouty face away with kisses.

Gerard kissed him at the breakfast bar while they waited for Stefan to bring out some deviled eggs and a quinoa bowl. They sneaked in a few kisses while they ate their meal. Frank’s face as he tried the quinoa was too adorable to resist. For an after-food meal, they tasted each other’s mouth some more. They made out on the couch like teenagers for a bit, then some more in the sunroom. Finally, Gerard took him out back to the pool and they made out on a sun lounger until midday. He was absolutely positive he reached the yearly recommended amount of smooches that morning alone.

He had never had a morning so well spent.

However, once Frank got a look at the pool and the slide and the grotto, even Gerard’s desperate lips couldn’t keep him away. He didn’t directly ask to get in, but he was practically vibrating in Gerard’s arms at the sight of the mini waterpark the Ways called a backyard. So, Gerard stole a pair of Mikey’s trunks for Frank and told him to have at it. Watching him splash around like he was at Six Flags was worth the kiss deficiency, though.

It would start to get colder soon, so might as well make use of it while they could. Of course there was always the jacuzzi for the colder days to come. Gerard shook his head. In time, in time. 

He himself slipped on his tiniest swim shorts and his favorite monogrammed silk lounge robe and had a cigarette and kale smoothie on one of the longue chairs as he watched. Maybe he was looking for attention, but his butt looked cute in them, so who would blame him?

Frank was like a kid again, splashing around and tumbling down the slide and giggling under the waterfall in the grotto. Gerard was quite content to enjoy his treats and the show in front of him. 

Getting to see Frank shirtless was icing on the cake. His arms were covered in tattoos and there were a few on his chest and legs as well. He expected a tattoo or two, as was common for guys like them at their age. Everyone got a rebellious tattoo the moment they made it out of prep school, but it looked like Frank never stopped getting them. Gerard couldn’t tell what all of them were at a distance, but he enjoyed watching them glisten in the sun. He was a grown adult though, so he knew to prioritize. And top of the list of his priorities was the script wrapping around his waist, with birds etched on his hipbones and guns pointing directly to his asshole to complement it. That was something he needed to see up close ASAP. For artistic inspection purposes, obviously. He was a failed artist after all.

Gerard wonders how he got away with it, or if he was still hiding it from his parents. Back in the day when Gerard used to wear eyeliner in public, he’d get hour long lectures about how his freedom of expression was 'tarnishing the family’s image' and _that_ fashion choice was removable at the end of the day. He could only imagine how a family like his would react to a full-on tramp stamp. 

Maybe he got it at boarding school, so his parents didn’t find out until it was too late. Or, maybe he didn’t give a shit about what his parents thought of him. Maybe he was like Mikey, and had his own wealth and did whatever the fuck he wanted with it. God that would be so hot. Like, he could feel himself start salivating hot. Was male cum a carb? Gerard didn’t know, but he’d forego the damn diet altogether if it meant he could get his mouth on those tattoos.

“Frank!” Gerard called out, suddenly needing the tattooed man near him once more. “Come here!”

Frank looked a little confused but swam over anyway. He surfaced from the pool, evoking memories of Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, except sexier because Frank was a dude covered in tattoos, which was something Gerard much preferred.

“What?” Frank asked, shaking the water from his hair like a dog.

“I missed you.” Gerard said, giving him puppy eyes. He patted the sliver of space on the lounge chair he was resting on. “Come sit.” Oh, well. Frank would just have to cuddle up to him, he guessed.

“Scoot over.” Frank said, trying to fit into the space.

 _Lol no._ Gerard thought. No, instead he did him one better.

As Frank fit himself on the chair, Gerard flipped over on Frank to straddle him. “Better?” He asked, raising a sexy eyebrow.

“I can work with this.” Frank smirked.

Gerard took a healthy puff of his cigarette and tossed the stub into the ashtray beside them. He let his fingers rest under Frank’s jaw while he used his thumb to pull it open. Frank let his mouth hang, his blown out stare unwavering. Gerard leaned forward and blew his smoke into Frank’s mouth as he took a deep breath in. Gerard felt arousal flood him, circulating through his body and down below. He ran his hands through Frank’s hair and pulled it back, exposing his throat, which he took the opportunity to lick at. It was very hot and Gerard felt like he was in the beginning of a bad porno.

Then Frank started hacking up a lung. Gerard let himself fall to his side as Frank shot forward in panic, lungs protesting. Gerard cackled beside him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked as sympathetically as one could while laughing at one’s boyfriend’s pain and stroked Frank's back.

“What kind of wild shit do you smoke?” Frank wheezed between coughs.

“Cloves?” Gerard said nervously, pitch rising.

Frank shook his head in disgust. “That’s hardcore dude. Keep it away from me.” He leant back on the lounge chair once more and Gerard cuddled up to him.

He kissed Frank’s forehead in apology. “Says the man who smokes ultra lights.”

“Shut up.” He said, nudging Gerard’s shoulder playfully. “You’re not my mother.”

“You’re right.” Gerard said, wrapping around his wet torso like a sloth. “But you are my boyfriend.”

Frank’s face lit up as he said it and Gerard felt it tickle the cockles of his heart. 

“Do you like it when I say that? That you’re my boyfriend?” Gerard teased.

“Maybe.” Frank shrugged, not even bothering to suppress the joy coming off of his face. 

Gerard leaned up to steal a quick kiss. “Maybe I like saying it.”

They sat there for a few minutes not saying anything, just leaning on each other and listening to the music of each other’s breathing. Frank’s eyes closed and Gerard was almost positive he’d dozed off after his adventures in the pool. Meanwhile, Gerard found himself making a home on Frank’s chest. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite places in the whole universe. His happy place. Like how Frank enjoyed playing music in the park by the George Washington Bridge. But it didn’t matter where in the world Gerard was, so long as he could rest his head over Frank’s heart.

He was tracing patterns over Frank’s abdomen when he whispered, “I want to know everything about you.” He hadn’t realized Frank was listening.

“Like what?” Frank mumbled, his eyes still closed.

“ _Everything_.” Gerard replied. “Like, what’s your middle name? What’s your family like? What are some things that make you really happy? Uh, what’s your favorite color?”

Frank’s eyes shot open a little in panic and he eyed Gerard curiously. Gerard wondered if that was too much at once or too sudden. He did have that problem. He tended to jump into things headfirst without really thinking about it beforehand. A character flaw he never really cared to fix. But Frank’s expression settled and he could calm down again and just enjoy how his pretty lips looked when they moved.

“Well, uh, I have two middle names for starters. _Frank Anthony Thomas Iero, Jr._ That’s certainly a mouthful to tell people.” 

Gerard groaned into his shoulder. “Ugh, tell me about it. I was supposed to be a junior, too. To carry on the family name or something like that. Not that my dad’s name is anything special. Luckily, I got Gerard, which is infinitely more my jam.”

“Yeah. You look like a Gerard.” Frank booped him on his Gerardian pixie nose to emphasize his point. “Uh, let’s see. My parents are cool. My grandfather was the _best_. He was literally the most fascinating person I’ve ever met. I wish I could introduce you. He’d appreciate your music collection. We actually used to play jazz together. He’s the one who taught me to play guitar, which I love. I guess that’s what makes me really happy. Music. Playing it, going to shows, it’s my favorite thing. I still play in a few bands with my friends, but nothing serious. My whole family likes music. I guess that’s one thing we can always agree on.”

Gerard smiled politely at Frank. That sounded so nice. Gerard wished he had a good relationship with his parents. He saw kids in movies and TV shows where their parents were loving and caring and _actually acknowledged their existence_. But most of the kids he knew from Alpine hated their parents. He knew of like two people who actually enjoyed their parents as people and a hundred who were only desperate for their approval. A while ago, Gerard gave up on both of those and decided to just _exist_. 

“You’re really lucky, Frank.” Gerard mused. 

“Yeah, I really am.” Frank smiled fondly. 

“I’m just the family disappointment. Which is fine by me.” Gerard waved. He grabbed the tiki glass that held his kale smoothie and took a few sips, moving the paper umbrella so he didn’t poke himself in the eye. “They can be as disappointed in me as they want. Their opinion of me used to bother me a lot more than it does. But, hey, our credit cards all go to the same account in the end, so what does it really matter?” He smirked.

“Haha, yeah, true.” Frank laughed and agreed. Gerard couldn’t help but yearn a little, though. He liked his things, of which he had many, all of which were nice. But, he might consider trading his entire Gucci collection for one wholesome family dinner. It was a waste of time to bother with that, though, so he emptied his head once more.

“And are you from Jersey?” The Ways were born and bred NJers, but he knew a lot of New Yorkers who lived in Alpine for the mansions and the tax breaks.

“Yes, actually, and very proud of it. It’s quite obnoxious but I have a few New Jersey tattoos. Love this state.” He stuck out his arm to point out a poorly done anchor tattoo with the letters NJ surrounding it. Frank looked proud if it though, so Gerard put on the most impressed face he could muster.

“If you’re from Jersey, why haven’t I seen you before? It’s a small world around here.” Gerard asked inquisitively.

“Well.” Frank stared off into the distance, an expression that Gerard couldn’t quite place. It looked half like he had to burp and half like he’d had a gun placed to his head. It was almost entertaining if not for the fact that Frank was only answering a simple question. “That’s because… I grew up in Italy. Yeah. I’m from here originally, but spent most of my childhood in Italy. You, know. With the fam. Cause I’m Italian. Made our fortune there and everything.” 

That excited Gerard. “Che storia!” He exclaimed.

“Uh, sì!” Frank replied.

“Oh, I love Italy. We used to do summers in Capri when I was a kid. So wonderful. Their beaches were to die for and the accents were just the cutest.” Gerard gushed. Frank would look so gorgeous up against the blue waves.

“Oh I went there a few times, but my family did business in a different region.” Frank waved off the question.

Being half Italian himself, Gerard knew a few of the more prominent families in Italy and more importantly, what they got up to on their summer vacations.

“Ooh, what region? I might’ve been there.” 

Frank stuttered a bit, “You know, um, T-T-Turin.”

All the people he knew in Turin were old and cranky and friends with his parents, but they never had any fun kids who would post embarrassing videos of themselves on Facebook. “Oh that’s nice. What business are they in?”

Frank blinked a few times. “They manufacture luxury pet products. Carriers and accessories and stuff. You remember that bag Paris Hilton used to carry her dog in?” Gerard took a few seconds to conjure up the image, but nodded. “We made that.”

A glint sparkled in Gerard’s eye. “Anything for cats?”

Frank gulped. “They’re currently formulating a shampoo for longer haired cats. It’s still in the design phase. _Bella Gatto_ , I think it’s called.”

Gerard twirled a piece of Frank’s hair between his fingers. The cats were certainly starting to get stinky. They could use a bath. “Well, you’ll have to get me a sample sometime.”

Frank pursed his lips and nodded. “Sure thing.”

Gerard lit another cigarette and leaned back into the chair. “Well, I’m sure you know all about me. Grandparents started their business as a little mom and pop shop. It got bigger and bigger until it became a _thing_. Made them billionaires and they still like to remind everyone to this day. Dad took it over and made it bigger and richer and now they want me to do the same thing. Well, they did at least. Now, they’re trying to convince Mikey to do it, which is laughable.” 

He took a healthy drag at the topic of his parents.

“Do you wanna take over the company?” Frank asked with genuine concern.

Gerard blew the smoke, hazing the air around them. “Hell no. I want to wander the earth and become one with humanity.” Gerard smiled, recalling his parentally enforced exiles.

“I thought Mikey said you hardly left the house?”

Gerard narrowed his eyes at Frank. “Maybe so. I’m a bit of a hermit, I’ll admit it. But, it’s a dream.”

“And your art?” Frank asked next.

Gerard almost coughed on the smoke. “What about it?”

This time, Frank was the one to rub soothing circles into his back. “Have you thought about selling it? Being a full time artist.”

“No.” Gerard said plainly. “Why? So everyone could tell me how much they hate it? It’s so amateur. I didn’t even go to art school.” That was a pipe dream he gave up long ago.

Frank shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. You’re good. Your work is unique. Everyone would love it.”

Gerard didn’t like thinking about that. Then he’d get his hopes up again and it would never happen. It wasn’t worth his time. It was like his parents told him, he’d never make it as an artist. He was better off doing what he knew he did well, rocking a fur coat and maxing his parents’ credit card.

“Not even Mikey could convince me to do that. Quit while you’re ahead.” Gerard sighed softly and left another peck on Frank’s lips, effectively ending the conversation. “You didn’t even answer my last question.” Frank cradled Gerard’s jaw and he nuzzled into the touch. “What’s your favorite color?”

Frank let out his dumb little giggle of his, the one that sounded like a cross between a machine gun and a squeaky wheel. “Really? My favorite color. What’s _your_ favorite color Gee?”

He scoffed, “Tiffany blue, obviously.”

Frank smiled fondly. “Should’ve known.”

Gerard pushed up to be face to face with Frank again and started attacking Frank’s lips with his lips very romantically, but not at all calmly. Gerard hadn’t felt so happy in a long time, years if he was being honest. It was an experience he could only compare to his first time going to Comic Con or walking into a Chanel boutique. But he didn’t even have to buy Frank! And Frank could walk and talk like a new bag couldn’t. And he could kiss. That was very important, too.

The kiss was getting sloppy and his tongue was getting dangerously close to entering Frank’s digestive system when Stefan bounded across the green to announce, “Mister Way, your guest has arrived.”

Gerard disconnected from Frank, leaving the shorter man dazed and in a snog-high while Gerard clapped his hands in excitement. “Eee! Have him wait in the living room. We’ll meet him there.”

Frank gave him a bewildered look, scratching his head. “Guest? I didn’t know you were expecting someone.” He then looked down at his damp clothes and panicked. It looked like he had been shocked, which would’ve been unfortunate as his body was very conductive at the moment. “I am so sorry. Oh, crap. I’ve stayed too long and now I’m wet and I better go soon.”

Gerard cut his ramble off with another kiss. He wrapped his arms around his damp torso and let his hands settle on his hip. He let Frank settle back to calm before replying.

“You’re my boyfriend. You’re always welcome here, no matter the company I keep or what state of dryness you’re in. Relax.” He gave him an additional peck to certify it. “Besides, he’s an old friend of mine. I want you to meet him.”

Frank looked up at him with big shiny eyes full of uncertainty. “Yeah?”

He pulled him close and kissed his temple. “Yeah. In fact, I think you two will have a lot in common. We’ve got some towels and extra clothes in the pool house you can change into if you want.” 

Frank did want and Gerard disappointedly released his grip on Frank and ushered the man into the small cabana by the pool and showed him his options, before letting him know he would be going to meet his friend inside while Frank changed. It would be fine, there would be other Frank and Gerard makeout sessions and he really was excited to see his friend. And even more excited for Frank to meet him.

Frank took a deep breath in. His plan appeared to be working. Gerard didn’t seem to suspect anything at all. In fact he was buying right into it. A little too much. During that whole conversation, Frank was just saying the first thing that popped into his head. Did his backstory make sense? No. Did he care? Hell to the no. Gerard was eating that shit up. He thought the ‘oh yeah btw I used to live in Italy’ bit would be his downfall but Gerard just _believed_ him. Took him at his word. It was wild. He wondered if Gerard would forget about the whole free kitty shampoo samples business or he’d have to figure out a plan for that as well. 

That, however, was a problem for Future Frank. Current Frank had bigger problems. Namely, the other very rich person in the house he’d have to convince that very day. He hadn’t planned anything out and was mostly pulling it all out of his ass as he went along. Gerard seemed too intent to attack Frank’s lips to bother paying all that much attention to what he was saying, which Frank thanked his abandoned catholic god for. 

But, another person in a competent state of mind? That would take work. And luck. A metric fuckton of luck. 

If he was lucky, the person would be too interested in catching up with Gerard to bother with Frank. If he was shit out of it, he’d be able to smell it on him. Frank knew which situation he usually found himself in.

Frank put on the most wealthy looking socialite approved clothes available in the pool house. It happened to be a very nice pair of jeans and a button down. They were both designer. Frank wondered if he could get away with snatching these from the Ways. They were new and fitted and didn’t have a hole in the crotch. He wasn’t a thief per se, but he needed new jeans and these were practically being offered on a silver platter. 

If he really thought about it, it was just taking wealth distribution into his own hands. He was like Robin Hood, taking from the rich and giving to the poor. He was just localizing it to one specific poor. Whatever, there wasn’t a clause in the Robin Hood contract saying it had to go to anyone else, so, too bad. A selfish Robin Hood, but a Robin Hood nonetheless.

Frank felt his nerves creeping up on him as he made the long walk back into the house. It was indeed a literal non-metaphorical long walk due to the sheer size of the property the Ways lived on. That left him a lot of walking time to lend to his anxiety, who ate that shit up. _Are you getting away with it? What makes you think you’re getting away with it? What if you aren’t getting away with it?_ He tried to shoo it away like _begone anxiety!_ but it was literally his own consciousness so that was impossible.

He shook his limbs around as if his nerves were bugs and he could just shake them away. They weren’t, so it did nothing, and instead he just smacked himself in the face accidentally. 

“Get your shit together, Frank.” He muttered to himself. He practiced all the things he was taught to do to be proper. He straightened his back and stuck his hand out as if to shake another. He assumed the position and the persona.

“Remember, good grip. Nice to meet you, sir. I, too, have money. Ahahaha. Sure do! Oh those poors do make my wallet fat. I love owning things and having a bank account and paying for goods and services with money from that very bank account. American Express! Dow Jones!”

No, he just felt stupid. He let himself visibly deflate in defeat before straightening up again and approaching the door. Luckily, the Way’s butler, Stefan, was there to greet him and lead him inside. He hoped the man hadn’t seen his minor mental breakdown back there and gave him a polite smile as the man let him in so as to suggest, _you saw nothing!_

“Thank you, Stefan.” Frank said.

“Stephen.” He whispered as Frank passed.

“Hmm?” Frank turned around to face the man, not sure if he had heard him or not.

“My name is actually Stephen. Mister Way at some point got it into his head that my name is Stefan, and well, I just let him go along with it and don’t bother to correct him. But, I’m not French or anything. My name is just Stephen.”

Frank left his mouth hanging open for just a little too long. He snapped it shut and assumed the persona once more, sticking his hand out to shake.

“Well, thank you for letting me know, Stephen. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He saw an inkling of a smile on Stephen’s face, but it didn’t end up cracking through his professional exterior. Frank wondered what other things he was forced to hide for his work. Frank was no stranger to that and felt a little sad for him. He had a good grip, a strong handshake. It was the kind of handshake that got you business deals and trade agreements, he assumed. Unfortunately, it couldn’t get Stephen more than a servant position for a wealthy family.

He allowed himself to be led away to the living room, or one of them at least. When he got there, Gerard and his mystery surprise guest were already talking. The friend had his back to Frank, so he couldn’t see much. He looked youthful, Frank assumed. No gray hairs in the mop of curls at the back of his head. 

Gerard was still wearing the robe and banana hammock he had on earlier, so it was clearly nothing too formal. Frank could do this. He could make it happen. He believed in himself!

Gerard popped up when he saw Frank, waving him in. No, he didn’t believe in shit.

“Frank, come in.” He hooked his arm around his waist and led him over. He spoke to the other man, who was getting up to introduce himself, “This is my boyfriend, Frank. And Frank, this is my friend, R-”

Gerard was not able to finish because the friend in question turned around and Frank _perceived_ him.

“Holy shit,” Frank let slip out accidentally. 

He slapped his hands over his mouth at the foul language he spoke in the other’s presence. And that was true. Because with someone so grand, so majestic, so _fuckin rad_ , you could only bask in their presence and try not to take up too much of the air they were breathing.

Frank released his mouth from the confines and splayed his hands out in reverence at the other man. “You’re Ray Toro.”

Ray simply smiled cheerfully and nodded. “Thank you.”

Frank was staring, which he knew was rude, but he was still in the process of comprehending that one of his idols was standing a few feet away from him and not just because Frank got barrier at a show. No, he was _meeting_ him. Like an equal. Like a real person.

“I told you the guitarist from The Rodneys and I were old friends.” Gerard said, leaning his head on Frank’s shoulder and playing with the hem of his shirt. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect him to be tangible.” He awkwardly laughed, taking in everything that was Ray Toro.

He looked exactly like he did in the magazines and posters Frank had proudly displayed around his room. His curls were soft and fluffy. He had his signature leather motorcycle jacket with the flag and the spider inked on the back. And he just had this air about him, like every time he walked into a room he was cooler than everyone else and knew it, but was too good of a person to be snooty about it. There was rockstar energy there, but his brown eyes were so kind. Frank felt like he was going to pass out. 

He was actually feeling lightheaded. No lie, he was shaky and seconds away from fainting. Frank sat down so as to not do that in front of his idol. When Ray Toro sat on the couch a few feet away from him, he still couldn’t believe it.

“So, I heard you were a big fan of ours. The Rodneys, that is.” Ray Toro said, a playful tilt gracing his lips.

Frank nodded. And kept nodding. He couldn’t really figure out how to stop. “I’ve heard a few songs.” He said, failing at playing nonchalant.

“I played him your new album the other day!” Gerard exclaimed, feeling proud of himself. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Ray shrugged. “Better than leaking it online I guess.” 

God, he was being so cool about it. He was so fucking _cool_.

“I thought it was good.” Frank started, because of course it was good. It was The Rodneys. He felt like he should riff on that, so he elaborated a bit. And then kept elaborating because once he started he couldn’t stop. “It wasn’t the direction I thought you’d go in, to be honest. I liked the pop influences in _Soccertown_ , and I figured you’d probably lean into them for your next album, but what I heard sounded almost like modern Radiohead. It was freakin cool. Some of the solos and pedal work in there blew my mind, kudos to you. I can’t wait to display the vinyl on my mantle.” Frank gushed, then backpedaled, realizing how obsessed he sounded. “But yeah, pretty good or whatever.”

Ray ended up getting really excited with Frank’s review. “That’s it dude! I had been listening to _Out of Time_ and _The Bends_ on repeat for pretty much the whole last tour. Our lead singer wanted to embrace modern pop in his vocals and I was like, but what if we do that over some classic alt?”

Frank held himself still so as to not burst. “It was a good choice.”

“You caught that over one listen?” Ray asked, raising a perfect eyebrow at Frank.

Frank started a few words, but had trouble finishing them. “Well, uh, I, me, um, you see.” He took a pause and flipped through his mental dictionary in search of the perfect word. “Yes.”

“Damn, alright. Kudos to you. Do you play?” 

Frank flapped his mouth open and closed a few more times like Pac Man. He turned over to Gerard, who was leaning back on the chair opposite them, sipping his grassy smoothie and waving his hand encouragingly, enjoying watching the awkward interaction happening in his living room.

“I dabble.” He admitted.

“Well, you’ll have to jam with me sometime.” Ray offered. “I’m always looking for new inspiration to keep me fresh.”

Frank could feel the molecules in his body changing their state of matter as he slowly melted into a puddle. How does one say, “that is my only goal in life” without sounding like the subject of an Eminem song?

“I’d love to.” He managed to choke out. “Jam with you that is. If you want to, of course. Don’t feel obligated or anything. But, if you did want to. I would be down. To play music with you or be with you as you play music. I have guitar.” 

He tried to fake a normal happy expression but felt like it came off more like the braces girl from Finding Nemo.

“You have to let me come along!” Gerard interjected. “Just to watch. It sounds so fun.”

Ray laughed and pulled out his phone. “Of course man, anytime. You used to get me out of Algebra back in the day. I owe you everything.”

Frank blinked and when he opened his eyes, there was a phone in front of him. Specifically, Ray Toro’s phone. The guitarist of the Rodneys’s phone. The phone belonging to a Grammy nominated musical deity. It was in front of him, like Ray wanted him to take it.

“Put your number in. I’m gonna be pretty busy for the next month doing album promo, but we can schedule a jam sesh once things start to calm down.”

Frank took the phone in his hands, holding it as if it were the Koh-i-Noor. He looked down at it then back up at Ray.

“With _me_?” He questioned.

Ray chuckled. “Yeah you. Gerard vouches for you, so you’ve gotta be a pretty good dude.”

Frank let out a breath and looked over at Gerard who was staring at them with adoration. He felt himself fall a little further into the redhead’s orbit. He’d had people who got him flowers or a cake or Devils hockey tickets, but nobody had gotten him a musical playdate with a bonafide rockstar. And after only a few days of knowing him. Gerard looked just as thrilled for them as Frank did for himself. “Yeah, he’s pretty wonderful isn’t he?”

*

Ray Toro stayed for another hour, during which Gerard had Steven bring out a platter of chicken and cauliflower wings and a few beers. Frank and Ray each took one, but Gerard stayed sipping his smoothie. Frank remembered Gerard saying something about a keto diet, which seemed to be negated by all the food he’d seen him eat thus far, but Frank glossed over it. As if _he_ knew what a carb really was either.

Ray picked Frank’s brain on a few controversial music opinions and Frank talked technique and his favorite equipment with Ray. Gerard looked on slightly oblivious, but completely enamored. He had known Frank played guitar and he knew that turned him on. But all these fancy music theory terms and expressions they were using? That was _really_ hot. So confusing. But _so, so_ hot.

Gerard often found himself confused in his day to day life. It was something he had just accepted as part of his existence. He didn’t know a lot and he didn’t care to. But this meshing of confusion and sexual attraction, that was something he’d have to mull on later. 

Much later, though, when he wasn’t watching Frank’s eyes shine while describing his dream studio. 

Frank was so expressive with his arched brows and his restless hands. Gerard wondered how much time Frank had spent in Italy with his folks. He certainly gestured like a stereotypical Italian. He could practically imagine Frank on an Italian beach sipping Pinot Grigio and passionately telling him a story. He wanted that. Maybe in the spring they could go. He had to have a summer villa there. What’s the point of being Italian if you didn’t spend your formative years eating too much pasta and basking in the sun on the beach? He made a mental note to remind himself to bring it up to him later. 

Ray had to go eventually, places to go and people to meet. _The life of a rockstar_. Gerard remembered when Ray had a bad haircut and thick rimmed glasses. They used to get high in the photography darkroom, then. And take away the leather and the sunglasses and the major label, Ray really was still that kid. He sure fawned over Black Sabbath with Frank the same as he had back in his teen years.

Ray leaving was a little bit of a blessing though, as it left Gerard to waste another hour kissing Frank before he, too, had to go. That was nice. Frank’s lips and tongue and encouraging amount of teeth never got old. As Frank was walking out the door, Gerard made him promise that he wouldn’t let him go too long without those lips and tongue and teeth and hazel eyes again. Frank wholeheartedly agreed.

Then Gerard was alone again. Alone with his big house and his many things and team of servants. He didn’t like being alone. So, in the good, social mood he was in, he decided to not be alone. He called up the one person who would never say no to Gerard bothering him.

“Hi favorite brother!” Gerard spoke into the speaker of his phone.

“What have you done this time?” Mikey sighed into the receiver.

He could always count on Mikey to let him annoy and gossip and rant to his heart’s delight. What else were brothers for?

“I’ve done nothing.” Gerard said, a tiny bit offended, scooping gelato into his mouth. “Maybe I just wanted to hear the sound of my baby brother’s voice.”

He responded in monotone. “It’s the same voice it’s been.” He took a pause. “You’re in a good mood today. I’m concerned.”

Mikey did sound a tiny bit peeved, but was immediately engaged in the conversation with his brother. He was like that. Would just drop everything in a moment for someone he cared about.

“Am I not allowed to be chipper?” Gerard asked innocently.

“Was it Frank? Did Frank do this to you? What did you two even- no. You know what? I don’t wanna know.”

Gerard twisted the spoon in his mouth, unable to contain his smile. “I actually wasn’t even thinking about him. Not at all. But… now that you mention Frank.” 

“Did your date go well?” Mikey asked hopefully.

“Yeah.” He gushed. “We talked and kissed and then talked some more and then kissed some more. I might’ve started planning our wedding? I want a beach wedding in Italy, Mikey. He’s Italian, you know. Like he grew up there and everything. God, he’s so cultured. His family makes luxury pet accessories. How adorable is that? Maybe the boys can be our ring bearers and Jupiter can be the flower girl! Oh, she’d look so cute in a tutu. Anyway, we can get married at his beach villa. He’s from Torino but I don’t really wanna get married in Torino. Torino is where Stéphane Lambiel had his Olympic championship stolen from him. It's cursed. Oh, he looked so good in those pants, though. I could be swayed to get married in Torino, I guess.” He rambled, letting melted ice cream drip from his spoon.

“Well I’m glad it went well.” Mikey stopped him.

Gerard took a pause to stuff more frozen treat into his mouth. “I introduced him to Toro.” 

Mikey whistled. “Showing him off to the in-laws? Guess it is getting serious.”

“We might only be boyfriends for like twelve hours at this point, but it seemed like the right thing to do.”

“I wish you two good luck. He seemed like a good guy when I talked to him. I guarantee he’s just as into you as you are to him. He’s probably planning the honeymoon as we speak.” Even Gerard could hear the fondness in his tone.

This was why Gerard loved talking to Mikey. Sure, he was sarcastic and teasing at times, but when it came down to it, he really did care about Gerard. He was the one family member who actually did.

“Thank you Mikey. For amusing this whole speech.” He said sincerely.

“I’m just happy you’re happy. I’ll go book the flight to Italy as we speak. Even godforsaken Torino.” Mikey let out a low snicker. “What did you say the name of his company was again?”

Gerard furrowed his brows. He had been too busy imaging a set of color coordinated custom leather collars for the cats that he forgot to ask. “You know, he never told me. Oh well, I’ll ask him on our next date.”

“Hey Gee?” Mikey started, his voice soft and tender.

“Yeah Mikes?” He replied.

“Just promise me you won’t jump into this too quickly. The last thing I want to see is you getting hurt.” 

Gerard’s heart ached at how much he appreciated his brother. He felt safe knowing that if nothing else, he’d always have Mikey to look out for him. In a way it was weird. He was the older sibling, he should be doing the protecting. But he was proud of Mikey for being the kind, loving person he was despite their parental circumstances. He only hoped he could make Mikey proud to call Gerard his brother, too.

“I know, Mikes. I won’t. You don’t have to worry, Frank is such a good guy. You wouldn’t even believe it. Honestly, I’m scared _I’m_ going to be the one to fuck it all up.”

*

“Ok so _I may_ have done a major fucky.” 

Frank sat down at the table silently, Tucker and Jamia eyeing him like judgemental parents. 

Jamia cracked open her cider and looked him dead in the eye. “Like a major _major_ fucky?”

Frank bit his lip and looked up to do the mental math of it on the ceiling. “Like not a forever box worthy fucky, but it could potentially come back and ruin my relationship and entire life?”

Tucker took a bite of his Taco Tuesday taco. “Explain.”

Frank clasped his hands and held them to his chin. “Well. I may have told Gerard that I’m the wealthy heir to a luxury Italian pet brand fortune. And that I grew up in Italy and that I’m rich. And that I would give him samples of our company’s products. Oh and did I mention that I told him that I have money?”

Tucker and Jamia just stared at him blankly. A piece of ground beef fell dramatically from Tucker’s taco onto the plate. 

Jamia placed her open cider on the table and slid it over to him. “You need this more than I do.”

Frank gratefully took the cider and had himself a generous sip. Oh crisp apple goodness, surely that would make everything better. It kinda did. A little.

“Do you have a plan at all or did you think this would just be like a fun improv skit?” Jamia questioned. 

Frank thought about what he had thought about in deciding to do the bit and realized he actually hadn’t thought about it all. He thought about thinking about it. But, he never got around to do the thinking. It was hard to think when Gerard’s lips were sliding against his and his crotch was so gloriously close to his own. Frank was going to have to think about this. Fuck, he didn’t like the thought of that.

“His house was so big Jamia. Like _so big_.”

She sighed in disappointment. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“We’ll come up with a plan, dude.” Tucker insisted like the bro he was. “We’re pretty smart. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Jamia narrowed her eyes at the statement, like she really doubted it. Frank couldn’t tell which part she doubted, the figure out a plan part or the Tucker and Frank being smart part, but either would’ve been valid if Frank were being honest.

“Sure. I’ll help. If nothing else it sounds like a fun time.” Jamia said finally and leaned back into her chair, Sweet Pea jumping in her lap. “You’re gonna help us, aren't you Peasy? Yes you are. Yes you are, sweet girl.” Jamia gave Pea a belly rub and the dog panted gratefully. Well, if Peasus believed in them, that was all Frank needed to know. The plan was rock solid. Or the plan to make a plan. Whatever, Frank needed more cider before he could think about it. 

“You really like him, huh?” Tucker eyed him, analyzing.

“I really do.” He said, bursting out the seams with fondness.

Frank relived the memory of lying on Gerard’s fluffy couch. He had a beautiful boy wrapped in his arms who opened his heart and his life for him. How could he even question the plan? He wasn’t going to let his tax bracket keep him from having _that_. The thing everyone wanted. The thing he deserved. Even if it blew up in his face, he had to try. “I’m not going to let him slip through my fingers. He’s worth it.”

Jamia gave him a wistful look, like the ones she made when she watched Hallmark movies. It gave Frank a little bit of hope. 

Tucker stuck out his own can, an invitation for a bro toast. Frank clinked the two cans together. Sitting here with his two best friends, he started to become confident he could actually do it. He felt like maybe he could pull it off. He could earn Gerard’s affections. 

“Then I say, operation Riches is a go.” 

*

When Mikey Way was fifteen, he earned a perfect score on the SATs. His coding teacher told him he’d be the next Bill Gates. Mikey just shrugged and went back to writing a mod for Assassin's Creed.

It was odd being noticed. He was used to being ignored. He was the little brother and for most of his life, forgotten. After all, he was the royal spare. Gerard was supposed to be the important one. He’d been groomed to take over the family business since birth. Mikey was just around.

He grew to embrace it. Not being the important brother meant he could pretty much do whatever he wanted and got away with it. One day he found the gateway to the universe, to entertainment, to the outside world. The internet. It changed everything.

By the age of seven, Mikey had learned the ins and outs of coding. Three years later, he had built his own computer by hand. His thirteenth birthday present to himself was hacking his parents’ company’s server, which was a hell of a laugh. Especially because they never found out who did it. Mikey did what he enjoyed without any pressure to do anything else. It was the perfect life.

Then Gerard threw the Way Family Plan out the window.

The year Gerard dropped out of business school, Mikey graduated early with a degree in Computer Science and Engineering. 

Mikey had always felt bad for his brother. He was strapped with the brunt of burden of being The Next Big Thing in Way. He knew Gerard hated it. He saw him as he doodled in the corners of his textbooks and drifted off while his parents talked business at the dinner table. He saw the applications for art school Gerard hid from his parents, but never filled out. He almost submitted the SVA application for him, knowing that if the admissions office only saw his art, they’d be just as struck as Mikey was. He never did push him into applying, though.

Having decided he was not going to be either an artist or CEO, Gerard kind of just… gave up. On everything.

He started buying a lot of things and wandered around their parents’ mansion all day, the mansion Mikey knew he hated. He hardly even left the house. He went from being the thing their parents bragged about to being the topic of conversation they avoided. 

And with Gerard falling from grace and Mikey being on the up and up of the tech industry, Mikey became their parents’ new prized possession. They would pretend like they had believed in him all along, when Mikey knew there were times they had forgotten he existed.

But, like relieving an itch in the back of his mind, he found himself with the one thing he’d always secretly yearned for: his parents’ love. Or, their attention anyway.

And with it, came the burden of their expectations.

When Mikey Way was twenty-eight, he was on the cover of Forbes magazine. He hated the shot they chose. He looked like he didn’t want to be there. Though, to be honest, he hadn’t wanted to be there, But he knew it would please his mother and father, so he agreed to do the interview.

“Your jawline looks like it could fillet a mignon.” Pete chuckled from across the table.

Pete was his boyfriend, so he was allowed to like the Forbes pictures, Mikey figured. It would be a little awkward if he didn’t

“Shut up.” Mikey laughed, forking some takeout noodles into Pete’s mouth. Pete gratefully accepted. “My eyes look so dead.”

They had Mikey’s cover on the table between them. It was Pete’s apartment and he liked to show his kid genius boyfriend off. Their relationship wasn’t technically public knowledge, but everyone who mattered knew. 

It wasn’t because his parents were homophobic or disapproved of their relationship, but because their shitty friends did and their opinions were apparently the ones that mattered. Mikey didn’t care too much about it anyway. Though his status and inheritance made him a target for public consumption, he didn’t want his and Pete’s love to be too.

“Maybe if you slept once in a while.” Pete drawled sarcastically.

Mikey let the corner of his mouth rise into a signature smirk. “Really? Cause I thought we slept pretty good last night.”

Pete bit his lip as the memories played back in his mind. “You right.”

They shared a laugh at the memory. Pete on the kitchen counter. Mikey with a can of whipped cream. Pete falling off the kitchen counter. It was a fun time, bodily injuries sustained aside.

It would be alright. Pete was a world famous soccer player. He could handle the stretch and a rough tumble. That was the name of the game.

They were romantically looking into each other's eyes in the way only a couple who had made it past the honeymoon phase and the everything about you annoys me phase into the practically married phase could. Then, a knock interrupted their eye-based conversation.

Mikey turned to the door. They had just gotten back from a day out. They already had food. Who else could it be? Pete hadn’t mentioned he was expecting anyone.

“Sorry.” Pete apologized, making his way over to the front door to let the mystery guest in. “I thought we’d be out a lot later so I had my dog walker come by to give Hemmy his walk.”

Oh, yeah. Mikey realized that there wasn't a bulldog slobbering at his feet and begging for table scraps, which Pete would gleefully give. There was that little ragamuffin.

Mikey heard the lock slide open and a voice came through the doorway. “Sorry, man.” The voice said. “I checked under the plant pot and the key wasn’t there. I didn’t mean to disturb you or anything.” 

There was something about the quality of the voice; the tone or the rhythm. He _knew_ that voice. He could almost place it.

Then Mikey looked up and his suspicions were confirmed.

“No worries.” Pete assured. “Totally cool, I was just having lunch with my boyfriend. This is Mikey, my super cool genius boyfriend. You may have seen him on the recent cover of Forbes.” Pete bragged gesturing over to him.

Pete took Hemingway’s leash and led him over to the table. “Mikey, this is my dog walker -”

But Mikey had his sentence finished before he had the chance. For if the low height and 2007 pop punk hairstyle didn’t give it away, the shocked and terrified expression on his face upon seeing Mikey there surely did.

“Frank. We’ve met.” He made his way over to stand toe to toe with him. The Frank in question gulped audibly.

Pete looked back and forth between them trying to read their expressions. “Oh, does he walk your dog, too? I didn’t know you had a dog?” Pete stared off in the distance wondering where Mikey’d been keeping his secret dog this whole time.

“Walk my dog? No, I don’t think that’s what the kids are calling it these days. Frank here is the heir to an Italian luxury pet goods fortune and just so happens to be my brother’s new boyfriend. What was the name of your parents’ brand again?”

Pete furrowed his brows. “Your family runs a pet company and you never offered to give Hemmy a fancy Italian pet bed? Not cool bro. You know he loves to sleep.” Pete said, completely missing the point.

Frank put his hands up in defense but looked around the room for the easiest exit route. “Now, look. I can explain.” But kept his hands up in a pointedly non explaining silence. Mikey crossed his arms waiting for the lie he was going to tell, hoping it would at least be good. 

After about a minute of that, Frank dropped his hands, letting them slap against his thighs as they fell. “You know what I got nothing.”

Mikey stepped back until he could fall into the dining room chair once again. Fuck. Now the little shit was going to be _his_ problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time on all the riches, baby: pete, mikey, & frank do a my fair lady montage


End file.
